


A Wonderful (Bat)tle

by MaskoftheRay



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Invasion, Angst, BatCat, Bruce and Clark are best friends... and so is Wonder Woman, Bruce has a potty mouth, Bruce is a (little) petty, Bruce is scared of Clark's powers and Clark is just being a nice idiot, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Getting to know you, My (kind of) AU about how these three meet, Other, Poisioning, Story starts with a robbery but that's just a plot device, Superman rescues Batman and Bruce is not a happy camper, Wonder Woman and Batman just got off to a rough start everybody, Wonder Woman fights Batman and wins, Wonder Woman is a badass, because of course there's an alien invasion, bruce whump, eventually, injuries, not too badly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: There has been a string of robberies in Washington D.C., and all the stolen items have been of ancient Greek origin. Diana has just re-established herself in man's world and Wonder Woman hasn't yet made a name for herself. But, she has met Superman. Batman hasn't yet met Wonder Woman or Superman, and he's working with his kind-of girlfriend, Selina Kyle, to investigate the robberies before the thief hits Gotham. When Diana goes to Gotham, what will happen when the Wonder Woman meets the Bat?





	1. Going Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters, DC Comics does.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana finds it's time to go to Gotham after she hears Bruce Wayne is hosting an ancient Greek exhibit at the museum.

Diana Prince— aka Wonder Woman— was currently hovering over Gotham, NJ. Once she decided to come back to man’s world, she had needed to create a safe space for herself to re-learn it; there had been many innovations here since she’d disappeared over one hundred years ago. As she knew England the best, she had at first considered creating her base there. But England contained too many ghosts for her. She recalled fondly, but with a pang of sadness, that Steve had told her how wonderful America was. So, she decided to find out for herself. 

Naturally, if one desires to learn more about a country, they settle in its heart: in America, that was Washington D.C. She had been back in the human world for about two and a half years now and had been ‘heroing’ undercover for about a year and a half. She had not yet become comfortable donning the tiara and lasso in her adopted country at that time. However, when the alien from Metropolis had appeared to need assistance while fighting a giant robot, Diana felt it was appropriate to wear her ‘official’ gear. Afterwards, she had introduced herself. They had parted and hadn’t spoken since, although they had exchanged email addresses. 

She wondered if there were others like her and the Superman. There were rumors of a bat-demon who fought crime in Gotham, where she was now, but nobody had been able to prove it. At most, there were some blurry photos of a darker object that roughly looked like a man in a cape, if one squinted. Already, Diana had learned not believe many of the myths of mankind. She had also learned that Gotham was to be avoided unless necessary. It was now, unfortunately, necessary. 

There had been a string of robberies in museums and private collections around D.C. While Wonder Woman would usually have let the police handle it, the items that were stolen intrigued her. So far, every object that had been reported missing was of ancient Greek origin: ranging from pottery to statues, weapons to delicate ancient papyrus scrolls. Naturally, she felt a little more invested in protecting her own culture. When she had heard that Bruce Wayne, a socialite of some importance, was sponsoring an exhibit of ancient Greek artifacts, she was interested in the opportunity it presented to finally catch the thief. After all, who would resist such a tempting display? Diana hoped her thief could not. 

Additionally, she had heard of the Catwoman; unlike the myths of a Batman, plenty of people had seen Catwoman. They just had not caught her yet. Diana was unsure if stealing ancient Greek objects outside of her city that didn’t have anything to do with cats was inside of the woman’s modus operandi, but Wonder Woman was here to find out. A sudden gust of wind brought Diana out of her reverie, she floated lightly down and stepped onto a roof and waited. Whatever happened tonight, she thought, it would certainly be interesting.


	2. Let the Party Begin...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Selina get ready for the party.

As Selina Kyle readied for the evening, it was certainly not to become her alter-ego, Catwoman. No, the kitty was going out to play in a different way tonight. True, she was going to the ancient Greek exhibit at the Gotham Museum gala, but this time it was as a socialite. She was going to be Brue Wayne’s date and was excited because Batman had told her that it was for a case he was working. So, if Selina hummed as she put on matte red lipstick, nobody would blame her. 

……………… 

Bruce Wayne straightened his tie for the fifth time. Alfred cleared his throat and asked, “A little distracted tonight, Sir?” 

Bruce huffed. “Sorry, Alfred. I’m just thinking about my plans for tonight. If I play my cards right, Selina and I could have this thief in custody by midnight. I just hope nobody else shows up,” he said. His ever-stoic butler raised an eyebrow, at first making no comment. 

Then calmly, he said, “Yes, and I am quite sure that the prospect of enjoying Ms. Kyle’s company has nothing to do with your… not being distracted?” 

Bruce rolled his eyes and growled, “Alfred…” 

The English gentleman brushed off a piece of lint from his charge’s shoulder and said, “It is quite alright, Master Wayne. I do believe she is as excited to see you as you are her. Now, shall we go catch a thief?” 

……………… 

Twenty minutes later, a sleek black BMW pulled up in front of Selina Kyle’s apartment. An older gentleman got out and approached the doorman. “Hello, how may I help you, Sir?” asked the doorman. Alfred smiled appreciatively. It was so hard to find properly trained servers these days and he appreciated the ones who made the effort. 

“I am Mr. Wayne’s butler, here to pick up Ms. Kyle. Would you please ring her residence?” Alfred said. The doorman nodded, walking over to his booth. A few moments later, he returned. 

“Ms. Kyle will be coming right down Would you care to wait for her inside?” he asked. Alfred shook his head. 

“No, thank you. I am perfectly fine waiting for the lady out here. You may return to your studies if you wish. It does not bother me,” he said astutely. The young man looked surprised, and flushed. 

“It was that obvious?” he asked. Alfred smile kindly once again. 

“No, I merely saw your books when you opened the door to your booth to call Ms. Kyle. What university are you attending, if I may ask?” 

“Gotham U, Sir. I would like to learn accounting,” replied the young man. Just then, Alfred saw Selina appear out the door. 

Quickly, he withdrew one of his business cards and stated, “If you are ever interested in manning the Wayne manor doors for an evening’s event, here is my card. Good luck with your studies.” 

The young man’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “Th-thank you!” Alfred nodded once, sharply, and walked briskly to where Ms. Kyle was standing.


	3. Waiting for a Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Selina arrive at the party and wait for something to happen.

Selina looked ravishing in a wine-red strapless gown, with a pair of gossamer-thin stiletto heels on her feet. As she looked around, she spied Alfred and broke into a blindingly-white smile. “Hello, Al,” she said. 

“Hello, Ms. Kyle. How are you this evening? Is your cat quite well?” Alfred asked. Selina’s eyes twinkled. 

“Yes, my ‘cat’ well. How about your bat-problem?” she replied. 

Alfred chuckled. “All taken care of, my dear. The manor is quite clean of bats tonight. I shall hope that neither animal causes a ruckus. But, we shall see. Gotham’s criminals are rather fond of inviting themselves to social events in this city,” he remarked. 

“That’s certainly true,” Selina stated, smirking slightly. Heavens knows how many fancy parties Catwoman had ‘invited herself’ to. As they approached the car, the back door on the curbside opened and revealed Bruce Wayne: a chiseled, muscled man about 6’3’’, with black hair, crystal-blue eyes, and a face that many lusted over. He stood aside for Selina to slide into the car and his butler, and most trusted companion, closed the door. 

He said, “Thanks, Alfred.” The butler acknowledged Bruce’s thanks with a slight inclination of his head. Once the drive began, Bruce turned a little awkwardly to his date and presented her a little white gift-box. 

“What’s this?” Selina asked mischievously. 

Gruffly, Bruce replied, “Open it and see for yourself.” Alfred tried not to wince at Bruce’s bluntness. Selina’s nimble fingers soon made short work the bow and she opened the lid… to see a nice pair of white pearl earrings. 

“Oooohh, they’re beautiful. Thank you, Bruce!” she said, pecking him on the cheek. He flushed a little, before recovering. 

“They’re for work, Selina,” he said, taking one in his large hand, and undoing the clasp on the back, “see, here? This little button is a signal. If you see anything funny, I want you to press it. The other one has a tracker inside it, so I’ll be able to find you if I see anything or if you call me.” She rolled her eyes. Ugh. Bruce was always so serious. 

“I’ll be fine, Bat. And thank you again. Just because they’re practical doesn’t mean they aren’t pretty,” she murmured, going in for another kiss. This time, Bruce reciprocated. Until his butler cleared his throat. 

“We are approaching the museum, Sir,” he said. Bruce straightened his jacket and wiped Selina’s lipstick stains from his mouth. 

“Right,” he said. 

……………… 

Later that evening, Bruce suppressed a sigh as he pretended to take another sip of his drink. It was quickly nearing midnight, and nothing had happened. He scanned the room quickly, trying to avoid making accidental eye contact with any of the party-goers lest they think he wanted to talk to them. Suddenly, a low, feminine voice whispered in his ear, “Relax, Bruce. You’re looking a little batty.” Bruce turned around to see Selina, cranberry juice in hand. He forcibly unclenched his muscles. 

“I really thought I would be able to sneak off and see the modern art exhibit tonight; this ancient Greek stuff is nice, but I’m here for the charity. But I think I’ll swing by the museum later to check out their modern art exhibit,” he said, giving Selina a pointed look. 

She ignored him. “Hm. That sounds lovely. Want me to join you? We could call it a date?” she asked. He tensed again and she mentally sighed. She always forgot not to push him. 

“No. I find that I rather like solitude while contemplating Pollocks or O’Keeffes. But thank you for the offer. Perhaps sometime else, if I see a painting I like,” Bruce said. She nodded, message received. The Cat would not be joining the Bat on patrol tonight. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be out somewhere else. 

“I understand,” she said, sauntering away. 

……………… 

Wonder Woman yawned. It had been a long, boring evening so far. The gala at the Gotham Museum had ended at twelve thirty, with half-drunk socialites spilling out into fancy cars. Her thief had not come. Diana suppressed a sense of disappointment. As any true warrior knows, half of the battle is planning and waiting. So, she sat on the roof across the street from the museum, watching as the activity below gradually died down. 

……………… 

Bruce Wayne was the second-to-last person to leave. He and his date, Selina Kyle, appeared to be quite buzzed, and each seemed to be in quite a good mood. “Thanks for the delightful evening, Bruce,” Selina slurred, giggling. 

Bruce offered white teeth. “I’m glad you found it so fu—fulfilling,” he stammered, looking as if he had to remember how to use words. Selina giggled again. They walked loosely, as slightly drunk people do, back to the car. Once inside, the façade was ended abruptly. 

“Was that too much?” asked Bruce. Selina chuckled. 

“No. Not at all. If anything, you don’t have enough fun pretending to be drunk,” she said, letting loose one ‘drunken’ giggle. Bruce growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Not again, Selina. I’ve had enough of ‘Brucie’ and his company for a lifetime,” he groaned. Selina smiled, patting his shoulder. 

“Well, I know that you aren’t stupid,” she said, snickering. Bruce smiled slightly, eyes crinkled. 

“You do?” he asked flirtatiously— a parody of ‘Brucie.’ 

She smacked his shoulder. “Most of the time, when you aren’t doing that!” she said. 

He had the gall to wink.


	4. Batman Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce returns to the museum to patrol as Batman... and meets Wonder Woman.

Two hours later, Batman circled back to the museum after completing most of his patrol. It had been a quiet night: he’d only had to stop two muggings, a knife fight, and an attempted burglary. He was still tense with inaction, that feeling one gets when they were waiting for something and nothing occurs. Bruce had decided he’d better check out the museum just to be safe, and so he landed soft as a feather in the alley next to the custodial area of the building. 

……………… 

Wonder Woman was just about to call it a night— it was nearing three a.m.— and she did not usually keep such late hours. But then, out of the darkness, a vague, darker shape descended with a soft whoosh and a clunk as boots met concrete. Immediately alert, she began hovering a few inches over the roof, one hand on her lasso. She waited. There. Swooping down nearer the streets, she silently drifted around the corner to where she’d seen the… beast or man go. She observed. He was dressed in all black, a magnificent cape sweeping off his shoulders and plunging to the ground where it spread out dramatically. He looked huge— about seven feet tall and broad as a minotaur— although Diana knew that some of that must be the strange armor he was wearing, as well as the thick heel in his boots. He had some sort of mask on, leaving only his chin exposed— it glowed slightly in the moonlight. Most bizarre, his helmet had… ears? Diana decided that this must be the Batman. But he was not what she was expecting. For one thing, here he was, breaking into a museum to steal. She had heard he was a hero. More reliable proof that man’s world contained a multitude of untruths. 

Delicately as a lioness, Diana touched down on the ground and took a few steps forward. Just as she was even with the brick wall and had pressed herself against it, the Batman swiveled around, as if he’d heard her. Impossible, Diana thought. But then she noted his ears again. Maybe they do serve some purpose, she thought. “You can come out now, Catwoman,” he called softly, but still loudly enough for Wonder Woman to catch the deep notes of his baritone voice. Catwoman? Diana wondered, looking around. Then she realized he must think she was this ‘Catwoman.’ The element of surprise was now on her side. 

Diana strode around the corner. “I do not know who this ‘Catwoman’ is, but I am most assuredly not her. Who might you be, dark knight?” she asked in a clear, cold tone. She did not approve of theft. The man did a double-take when he saw her and then shook his head, as if scolding himself for the display. He took one, minute step forward, hand disappearing under his cape. 

He looked at her a moment, glaring, and then said with a growl, “I am Batman. Who are you and what are you doing in Gotham?” She laughed. This arrogant man, acting as if he owned the city! Hera help her, he must be a tyrannical soul, just as Socrates described. 

“I am Wonder Woman, Princess of Themiscyra. I have been waiting for a thief to show up. Here you are,” she said. The man’s attention was now fully invested in her. He swiveled around to fully face her abruptly. 

“I am no thief,” he growled, “I am the defender of this city!” 

She placed a hand on her lasso, and pursed her lips. “Then you would not mind coming with me and answering questions at the location of the nearest authorities?” she inquired, knowing what his answer would be. 

“I am afraid,” he said bluntly, “that I will have to refuse your… offer.” With that, he released a small, marble-sized object. It emitted black smoke and Diana coughed. She flew forward, arms outstretched. To think that she, the champion of the Amazons, could be defeated by such trickery was insulting! But to her surprise, this Batman was nowhere to be seen once the smoke had cleared. She paused a moment, and listened. There! Two roofs away— he moved quickly for one in such heavy armor— she heard the pounding of a man’s footsteps. 

……………… 

Bruce heard the soft rustling of fabric— thanks to the suit’s enhanced internal microphone. He said, “You can come out now, Catwoman.” He had checked this street before descending. It had been a quiet night. It was very unlikely to be anyone else. He heard feminine footsteps… but not Selina’s. He whirled around and saw… not Selina. 

She was huge for a woman. She stood at about 6’2’’, with thighs at least as big as his, and arms that would not be on anyone but the most dedicated athlete, or criminal. She looked incredibly strong. Dangerous, too. Her outfit was… bizarre. Bruce had seen strange villain costumes before, but never something like this. It vaguely reminded him of something Greek or Roman, but the colors were wrong. Furthermore, she did not look like a villain— as much as Bruce chastised himself for the thought, because anyone could be a villain— but a movie star. She had deep blue eyes, luxurious, thick, ebony hair, and a complexion reminiscent of the Mediterranean. She scowled, serious, and Bruce cut off his cataloguing. 

“I do not know who this ‘Catwoman’ is, but I am most assuredly not she. Who might you be, dark knight?” she asked, startling him. If I have never seen her before, how does she know one of my popular nick-names? He asked himself. But then, he realized, she was probably just clueless as to what to call him and had settled on ‘knight,’ because that was what he most resembled if one could not see the bat image on his chest and ignored the cape and ears. 

Bruce took one step forward, cursing his decision to come into an alley. Stupid, stupid! He thought. Sliding one hand towards his belt, he said, “I am Batman. Who are you and what are you doing in Gotham?” 

She laughed. “I am Wonder Woman, Princess of Themiscyra. I have been waiting for a thief to show up. Here you are,” she said coldly. Bruce was insulted. True, he was mostly an urban legend, but surely some of the people he saved told the truth about who he was and what he did. The idea that he was a thief! He was disgusted. 

“I am no thief,” Batman growled, “I am the defender of this city!” In response, this supposed princess— probably some sort of psychotic— placed a hand on her lasso, and pursed her lips. Bruce knew to be careful around women who carried any type of rope, thanks to Selina. But he was especially apprehensive because the moment her hands touched the lasso, it glowed. Either she has access to chemicals, or is paranormal, he thought nervously. 

“Then you would not mind coming with me and answering questions at the location of the nearest authorities?” she inquired, testing him. Bruce palmed a smoke bomb, knowing that what he said next would cause her to bridge the space between them. His heartrate picked up slightly, and his adrenaline kicked in, readying for a fight. 

He began to slowly withdraw his hand from his belt, shutting the compartment. “I am afraid,” he said bluntly, “that I will have to refuse your… offer.” With that, he released the smoke bomb and saw her float off the ground and begin to fly toward him. Supernatural, he added to his mental catalogue of her. Most definitely a supernatural being. He grappled onto the roof, somersaulting to a stand, and immediately took off at a sprint. He was unsure if he had lost her or not.


	5. Run and Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce knows nothing about the strange woman who's chasing him other than that she's got some kind of super strength… and wants to fight. Batman cannot let that happen.

Batman leapt to another rooftop, barely slowing. True, he was heading away from his car, but then, he couldn’t exactly lead this flying stranger right to the bat cave, could he? Instead, he was heading to the docks. It was much more open, and therefore, easier to fight in. Plus, there were still the warehouses and he knew them like the back of his hand from the early days when he had mostly broken up smuggling rings. 

Unfortunately, he had only traversed two roofs when he heard someone’s pounding footsteps coming at him. Very quickly. As he leapt forwards onto the next roof, he chanced a glance backwards. She was running at him almost like a bull, and alarmingly, he noted, closing the distance fast. As he landed on the roof, he knew he’d never make it to the docks. Reevaluating, he threw a bat-a-rang behind him and was pleased to hear its impact as it hit her flesh. Unfortunately, it merely slowed her momentarily. As the next roof came into view, Batman knew, grimly, what he’d have to do. 

As he reached the edge, Bruce slowed dramatically so that instead of going up, he went down. Fast. Spreading his cape only slowed his momentum enough so that he was not gravely injured. As he recovered, he noted the distant throbbing that was now coming from his left ankle. Silently, he entered the parking garage and crouched behind a black van, waiting. 

……………… 

Diana was, begrudgingly, impressed. Few people chose to oppose her when they saw her, either out of a sense of self-preservation, or the irrational fear that seeing her strength caused in misogynistic men. Not only had Batman stood his ground, but so far, he had managed to evade her, and surprise her too. She had not expected him to simply drop from the air, disappearing between the crevasses of the buildings like that. No matter. Wonder Woman was still a demi-goddess, and he, to her knowledge, a mortal. Even if there were a delay in apprehending him, apprehend him she would. Eventually. She took to the air again and floated down, taking the path he had. She knew where he had gone, and why, as soon as she saw the dark maw of the opening of the parking garage in front of her. Her respect, and wariness, went up another notch. “Clever,” she murmured softly. Then she floated silently through the gap. 

……………… 

Batman crouched, night vision activated. He tried to regulate his breathing and heartrate. He held a bat-a-rang in one hand and had the other over the pouch on his belt that contained tear gas pellets. He watched as she floated silently into the room. She paused, seeming to be listening to something and then slowly continued down the aisle, towards him. Bruce tried to quiet his breathing further, alarmed by the thought that she could probably hear it. 

But even as she advanced, she’d still pause sometimes, squinting. It appeared that though she could see more than a regular human in such darkness, it was not by much. This comforted Bruce because the dark was his element. Cautiously, he adjusted his stance so that he’d be ready to leap over the car, if needed. At his movements, Wonder Woman’s head pivoted. She was suddenly approaching him much faster. At the right moment, he released the tear gas pellet and quickly moved behind another car when he heard her start hacking. He once again adjusted his position and threw a bat-a-rang at her. Through the smoke, he saw it bounce off her without leaving a scratch. He frowned. So, she’d have to be brought down the hard way, then. 

While the tear gas still distracted her, he performed a flying leap off the hood of the SUV and hit her stomach with his boots. He came to a stand and sent some rapid-fire punches at her to disorient. Still coughing slightly, with runny eyes, she lashed out, one fist catching him in the shoulder. It sent him flying into the nearest car. His ankle collided with the ground before his head collided with the car. The impact jarred his bones and the shriek of the car alarm deafened him, with the enhanced microphone in his cowl still being on. Quickly he turned it off and stood, a little dazed. He mentally cursed, because there was no way he could run now; his ankle was at least sprained, if not broken. But there was no time to recover, because she was rapidly flying toward him. And she looked angry.

Before he could do anything, she had grasped him by the cape, as would a mother cat her kitten, and was heading for the light of the exit. No, can’t let her get any more of an advantage, he thought. He activated the ‘shock’ feature of the suit. With a cry of alarm— and he hoped pain— she dropped him. He landed hard on the sunroof of a car and hit his head with a wham! He felt dazed— almost certainly a concussion, damnit— and almost didn’t get up in time to avoid her. But he did and stood shakily between the cars. She swooped down at him, but he ducked: she could not get him from the air and would have to land. This might even the odds enough for him to escape. Maybe. Bruce was doubtful at this point. She seemed to realize this too, because she landed, and he swore the ground cracked from the impact of her boots. 

"If you surrender now, you will not be harmed further,” she said confidently. Bruce’s glare was positively caustic. It was not that she was a woman, no. It was that she thought herself superior because of her innate power. Batman had worked his entire career to be an equal to the likes of her; he did not appreciate— or respect— power without effort. He threw another smoke pellet and launched forward to attempt a choke-hold. She slammed him against a car hard enough to dent metal and he felt something inside him pop. It was a bit nauseating. Despite the pain, he held on. It took longer than it should have, but she was finally brought down to one knee. He held on. But she surprised him once again by grabbing his injured ankle and pulling. His hold loosened, and he hit the floor with a smack. Fast as lighting, she was on top of him, reaching for her lasso. Batman suddenly felt a wave of panic. He did not know what caused it, but something in his gut was telling him he did not want that lasso touching him. 

She had left his hands free, confident in her superior strength. As she leaned toward him, he hit her as hard as he could in the solar plexus. She gasped and fell backwards. He pushed her off, landing a kick with one boot. Then he threw a flare behind him and ducked behind another car, with his eyes shut. As soon as he sensed it was over, he began heading for the exit as quickly as his injuries would allow. But she still came stumbling at him with a savage yell. He could tell she had been temporarily blinded by the way she smashed into cars. But she smashed the cars… and did not stop. She lunged at him and he leapt back, but put too much weight on his injured ankle. He stumbled and did not avoid her next punch... or the knee to his chest. At that, he let out an exclamation of pain; that attack had revealed to him that it was his shoulder that he had heard pop earlier. He struggled to get away. 

Something in her face seemed to change after she heard his exclamation of pain. She suddenly shifted into a choke-hold and Bruce began struggling even harder. But then he realized… she wasn’t actually choking him. She shoved him to the ground, but gently. She placed a foot on his chest and another on his cape. He saw that her eyes were clear once more and she observed him keenly. He waited, heart pounding furiously. It was hard to concentrate between the throbbing of his ankle, the stab of pain through his shoulder every time he took a breath, and the confusion in his head. 

She shook her head softly, and said, “You are mortal, aren’t you?” He scowled at the suggestion of his weakness but said nothing. She sighed, looking displeased— at him or herself, he couldn’t tell— and said, “I have injured you, haven’t I.” Again, he said nothing, but couldn’t stop the hiss of pain from escaping his lips as she adjusted her foot on his chest. A look of… almost compassion came over her. He tensed again, wary. Abruptly, he was set on his feet and he staggered forward a little, the concussion hindering his ability to balance. The strange woman set him against a wall, one had firmly on his injured shoulder. Batman would not be escaping anytime soon.

Her free hand began moving towards her lasso and he struggled again, mostly on instinct. She squeezed, probably a little more firmly than she meant to, and he saw spots in his vision. She wrapped his wrists securely in the lasso and it seemed to shrink to contain them as tightly as handcuffs would. As soon as the final link was over his hands, he felt even more dense, as if there was a wall of water between his brain and reality. Somehow, he doubted it was just the concussion. 

“Have you called any allies to you aid tonight?” she asked. 

Bruce tried to keep quiet, but felt himself answering, “No.” 

“What is your name?” she asked. He struggled again, this time a little more successful. 

But still, he answered, “B…Bat…Batman.” He gritted his teeth. There was a pause in the impromptu questioning and her eyes roved over him, taking him in. 

“Are you in pain?” she asked. Bruce glared, livid. Who was she to come here, accuse him, fight him, and then become pitying. He wanted no pity— HE inspired fear in the most hardened mobsters! 

Despite his strong emotions, he still answered, “Yes.” 

“If I were let you go, would you stop your ‘nightly activities?” she asked. 

“No,” he said, gritting his teeth. She pursed her lips, silent for a moment. She looked as if she were deciding something. The she looked him straight in the eye, and the lasso seemed to heat up. Before Bruce could do anything, she hit various pressure points on his body hard enough to leave a bruise… hard enough to get through the Kevlar. The last thing he remembered was the unpleasant feeling of his knees giving out under him.


	6. Captured Bat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana brings Bruce back to the hideout she shares with Clark, and Bruce finally meets Superman... with mixed results.

Diana looked at the strange warrior— for he was skilled enough for her to grant him the title— that was restrained in the lasso of truth. She asked him the most pressing questions, and he answered, as all were compelled to. But by the look on his face, he did not do so happily. As soon as she’d been attacked by him, Wonder Woman had forgotten that her opponent, no matter how skilled, was mortal. But after he’d thrown some sort of light-creating device out, temporarily blinging her— both physically, and mentally with rage— she had gone after him full-tilt. It was only after hearing his abrupt exclamation of pain that she remembered: he was just a man. So, when she’d finally captured him, the first thing she did was to observe him. 

It was impossible to tell how much, if at all, he was bleeding through the heavy black armor, but there were some physical assessments she could take. One: he was favoring his left ankle, so it must be injured. Two: she was fairly confident that he had hit his head hard, she now recalled slamming him into several motorized vehicles, and winced a little, as he had had trouble balancing when she’d set him on his feet. Three, his left shoulder was injured— she now recalled the sickening pop it had made when she’d slammed him into yet another car… In summary, Diana had done much more damage to her opponent than he had to her, despite his best efforts. She felt slightly guilty, and unsure of what she should do. This man… whoever he was, could still be a threat, so she didn’t want to release him. But she had injured him, perhaps unduly, so she wanted to make sure he was okay. 

This made her next actions easier to decide upon. She recalled the proper pressure points to knock out a person and hit him. He went limp, and sagged towards the ground before Diana caught him gently and held him over her shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. It was slightly undignified, but there was no one around to see it. The next thing she had to do was to retreat to her hideout in Metropolis— a kind of middle ground, in case Superman needed assistance, or she needed his. Then, she set down the Batman and contacted Superman. 

……………… 

Awareness returned to Bruce slowly. But when it did, the first thing he realized was: there was cool air touching his face— all of it. He brought a hand to his face and— yes, she had removed his cowl. He cursed, heartrate already increasing. He tried to swing his legs over the bed, because if she knew his identity, he had to escape and warn Alfred now, but realized that his uninjured ankle was chained to the bed. Also, it was then that he noticed the bandage around his other ankle, and the one around his chest… because he was shirtless. He cursed again. Suddenly, a light flickered on. Bruce winced, the concussion making him extremely light-sensitive. “Do you talk to your loved ones like that, Mr. Wayne?” asked a male voice. 

As the figure, in red and blue— with a cape almost as theatrical as Bruce’s— came into view, Bruce tried to glare. But it came out as more of a squint. “Who the fuck are you?” he growled menacingly, keenly aware of his vulnerability, despite his tone. The other man winced, as if he were the one that was hurt. 

“I’m Superman,” he said. Bruce rolled his eyes, a habit he had when facing the more idiotic of Gotham’s criminals. But unlike most times, there was no cowl to disguise it. 

“It’s true!” exclaimed ‘Superman.’ 

“And I’m an actual bat,” Bruce spat. 

“I’ll show you!” exclaimed the man eagerly. 

Bruce was in the middle of another eyeroll— he didn’t know what these people wanted, but this guy seemed a lot less competent that his partner, Wonder Woman— when ‘Superman’ lifted off the floor and flew in a circle around the ceiling. Bruce’s heartrate shot up. Great, another paranormal. The man must have misread Bruce’s reaction because he said, “I can do more, too.” That was when he shot fucking lasers out of his eyes and burnt a hole in the ground next to Batman’s bed. Bruce now felt incredibly nervous and tried to stop his near hyperventilation. A superpowered woman was one thing, but a guy who could shoot lasers out of his eyes and fly? That was something else entirely. It was… alien. 

The other man cocked his head, as if listening to something, and said, “You don’t have to be nervous. I’m not going to hurt you. Or reveal your identity. Diana— Wonder Woman— called me here because she didn’t know what to do with you. She’s out getting food for us.” 

Bruce swallowed. He didn’t know what to do with that information. He sat up more, twitching slightly at the blaze of agony in his shoulder. It had stiffened up since he’d been… captured. He was pretty sure it was broken somewhere. As the Superman watched his movements curiously, Batman was once again abruptly aware that he did not have a shirt on. “Do you… err… need anything?” asked the other man. 

Bruce sighed, grumpy because of this whole damn situation, and because his head hurt. Well, to be honest, all of him hurt. But still. “A shirt would be nice,” he growled. Again, the Superman flinched, as if he was the one being held against his will. 

“Right! Di- Wonder Woman was concerned that you’d start bleeding again. So, she kept your shirt off. I think it’s still around here somewhere though,” he said, flying away. Once he was gone, Bruce closed his eyes against the bright light. Definitely concussed, he thought. 

“Are you asleep?” whispered the other man. Bruce would have rolled his eyes, but they were still shut. 

“No,” he grumbled, opening them to a squint. He held out a hand. “Give. Me. My. Shirt,” he said. The other man complied. Bruce was able to pull it over his head and over his other arm, but when he tried to move his injured arm, it twitched, but didn’t move much— just sent out more pangs of agony. He would have been worried that Wonder Woman had given him nerve damage, but if it was nerve damage, his shoulder would have been numb and not have responded to his thoughts at all. He now believed that it was probably a pulled muscle as well as a break. 

When Superman asked, “What’s wrong?” Batman realized he’d been sitting there with his shirt half-on. 

“Nothing,” he growled, tugging down his shirt in the front with his good hand. He kept a neutral face, but he was pretty sure his teeth would be sore the next day from the pressure of them grinding together. Despite his best efforts, he could not get his other arm through the sleeve. Bruce sighed, glaring at the floor. A surprised sound made him, reluctantly, look up. 

“You’ve pulled a muscle! And got a fractured shoulder blade,” Superman said. Bruce jolted up at the impossibly accurate guess. 

“How did you know?” he barked. 

Superman tapped his temples. “I’ve got x-ray vision too,” he clarified. Bruce’s mouth may have hung open for a good five seconds before he remembered himself and shut it again. Of fucking course, as if the oaf couldn’t be any more overpowered. Then the man— or alien, it was getting hard to tell— flew closer and hovered over Batman. “Here, let me help,” he said, floating behind Bruce, where he couldn’t see. 

“No,” Batman growled, trying to spin to see the…alien? But this made a sudden zing of pain emanate from his shoulder, and he bowed forward with a hiss, cursing everything his very creative mind could think of. This seemed to decide something for the alien, because he put one steadying— restraining— hand on Bruce’s shoulder and suddenly, the pain… diminished at the pressure. 

“Relax,” ordered the other man. Bruce growled, but complied. Bruce felt the strained muscle in his shoulder heating up, but not uncomfortably so. After a few more seconds, it stopped, and Bruce instead felt the pressure of a thumb pressed against the exact spot where the strain was. “Now raise your shoulder,” said the alien almost gently. Hesitantly, Bruce did, feeling the muscle unwillingly do its job. Abruptly, the troublesome sleeve was over his arm and his arm was being lowered, with pressure over the injured muscle this time coming from outside his shirt. Then with a breeze, the alien man was standing in front of him, sharply observing… or maybe x-raying? Both Batman and Bruce were unsure. 

“Thanks,” Bruce said gruffly. 

“Not a problem… how long did you last?” said Superman. 

Bruce hesitated, calculating mentally. It was a bit more difficult, with the concussion. “…about 20 minutes?” he stated, unsure. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“That’s… impressive. But I shouldn’t be testing you like that when you’ve got a concussion. She really did a number on you, huh?” he asked. Bruce frowned, saying nothing. 

It was at that moment that even more lights came on and Bruce heard a woman— the Wonder Woman— proclaim, “I have returned, Superman.” Bruce squinted, his vision suddenly going blurry from the influx of light. Then she rounded the corner, revealing two Whole Foods bags. She halted, seeing that her ‘prisoner’ was awake. After a long moment, where she seemed to be checking out the state of him, she said, “I have brought sustenance. Do not lie and tell me you are not hungry— it would be a disservice to your exquisite efforts earlier.” 

She set down a brown take-out box by his side and a bottle of water. On principal, he did not want to eat it, in case it was drugged, or worse. However, he doubted, given this woman’s…abilities, that she would resort to drugging her enemies. Additionally, though he was loathe to admit it, he was pleased to hear her…respect of his abilities, even if it was in a statement meant to manipulate him. Damn her, it was working, too. He opened the bottle of water and downed a quarter of it before turning to the food. He opened the box and snorted. A Cobb salad? 

“Is this because you thought I’d want protein— you know the health benefits of salad are outweighed by the sodium and fat content of this— or because I’m… me?” he asked, looking at the Superman. The man looked sheepish. Bruce rolled his eyes. “I thought so,” he said, taking a bite. Swallowing, Bruce said, “I’m not a snob. And really, Whole Foods isn’t even that fancy, Superman… although, I am surprised at the effort, given the fact that I am being held here.” Even the woman looked somewhat amused at his statement. But Superman’s face turned from slightly sheepish to serious faster than a man could blink. Batman blinked anyway. 

“About that,” said Superman, turning to Wonder Woman, “you can’t just go imprisoning American citizens, even vigilante ones. It smacks of dictatorship. We need to either let him go, or bring him to the authorities.” The woman’s attention was diverted from Bruce, who kept eating his salad. One, he really was quite hungry, and two, he doubted anything he said would make much of a difference at this point. 

“But he was at the museum and refused to go to the police station with me— I offered him a chance!” protested Wonder Woman, frowning. Superman looked annoyed and huffed. 

“We can’t just go around ‘arresting’ people, Diana. Although, thank you for at least giving him the chance to surrender this time,” Superman said. 

“This time?” Bruce asked, alarmed. Both paranormal beings spun to look at him, and the empty take-out dish of salad. Bruce suddenly stilled, realizing he’d said that aloud. 

“I think it is time we answer some questions,” Wonder Woman said, eyes narrowed as she glared at both Batman and Superman. Bruce tried not to gulp in alarm.


	7. Return to Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gets interrogated by Wonder Woman and Superman, and starts planning his escape.

“Wait, wait, wait!” exclaimed Superman, floating to stand between Wonder Woman and Batman, “Before you do any more damage, we need to make sure he doesn’t need hospitalization.” Bruce scoffed, ego offended at the notion that he needed a hospital after a little scuffle— he’d definitely been worse off than this before. At his scoff, the Superman whirled around to look at him beratingly. 

Bruce growled, “Please, I’m fine. I’d rather get on with… whatever she had planned so I can leave.” 

Superman sighed, looking frustrated. “No, you’re not fine! You have— a fractured shoulder blade, strained lateral muscle, twisted ankle, moderate concussion, cuts, and bruises—” 

“I fight the Joker on a regular basis— this is nothing,” Batman spat. 

Superman’s brow furrowed, and Batman couldn’t help but think he looked like a lost boy scout. “I know that your head has got to be hurting at least, and your shoulder— I may not have a lasso of truth, but I know that. At least let me run to the store and get some Tylenol or Advil, or something—” 

“I said no. You can go to as many stores as you want, I’m not taking anything,” Bruce huffed. He resisted the childish urge to cross his arms… only slightly due to the fact that he knew it’d hurt his shoulder like a bitch. He had completely forgotten about the recently returned woman until she suddenly reappeared by his side. 

“Oh, for Hera’s sake! You men are so stubborn. I purchased some of this Advil when I went to the Whole Foods market. How many does he need, Superman?” said the woman. 

Superman’s head turned to the woman and he asked, “What’s the dosage?” 

She looked at the bottle, and replied, “200 mg.” Then he looked at Bruce, and Batman had the uncomfortable sense that he was being x-rayed again. 

“I’d say three. Why?” he asked. 

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when the woman approached him. Swiftly, she uncapped the bottle and had the blue pills in her palm. She strode towards Bruce and he tried to swat at her. She gently thwarted his attempts to stop her. Before he could do anything, she pushed on the side of his jaw, to make him open his mouth. Then, before he could do anything, she shoved the pills down his throat and clamped one hand over his mouth and another over his nose. “Diana!” objected the Superman. Still restraining Batman, the woman turned her head to look at her reproachful colleague. 

“What? This is how we make our young ones take their medicine. If he will not be reasonable, this is what I must resort to,” she replied evenly. Superman sighed, shaking his head. Batman still had not swallowed his pills, due to stubbornness. He was better at holding his breath than the average man, but still needed air. After about four minutes, he felt his face start to heat up and swallowed. Immediately after, the pressure of Wonder Woman’s hands was removed from his face. He hacked out a few coughs and resumed breathing normally, glaring lividly at Wonder Woman. 

“Now, can we begin?” she asked the Superman. He sighed. Wonder Woman unwound the strange, glowing rope from her waist and approached, Bruce felt his stomach sink. He did not like it. He remembered that much from his fight with the woman. Superman hovered in the background, not quite looking comfortable either. But that didn’t make him do anything to stop Wonder Woman’s actions. Bruce was now quite sure who it was who was in charge here. 

She approached him steadily, as one who is confident of their upper hand would. This only made Bruce scowl deeper, although he found it darkly humorous as he pondered what the gossip magazines of Gotham would say if they could see their ‘prince’ now. She wrapped the lasso around his wrists, and it once again constricted— tight, but not uncomfortable, except for the slightly off feeling it produced. “Why were you at the museum?” she asked sternly. Bruce smirked. Just because he was compelled to tell the truth didn’t mean he had to do it how she wanted. 

“I donated a large sum to the museum, after all, I am quite the philanthropist— and I wanted to see what my money was going towards,” Bruce said smoothly. The woman sighed, looking a little annoyed. This made Bruce unreasonably pleased. 

“Why were you at the museum as your… alter-ego?” she asked. Bruce sighed mentally— well, he hadn’t expected that to work for long. But still, she was quick to the point… 

“I wanted to make sure no one was going to try breaking in. Gotham has had a rash of burglaries, not committed by Catwoman. I was concerned that someone new had set up shop,” he grumbled reluctantly. 

“So, you were not there to steal anything?” clarified the Amazon. Bruce rolled his eyes, momentarily forgetting he didn’t have the cowl on. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ 

“Why didn’t you voice your concerns to the police?” asked Superman. Bruce sighed, feeling quite irritated at that moment that he’d allowed himself to be caught by these two. 

“Have you ever met the Gotham police? If I had a nickel for every new report on their corruption, I’d be embarrassed at how much more absurdly wealthy I was,” Bruce said. 

“But surely there are some good members of the police force. Besides, if everyone went around imposing their own view of justice on everybody else, gosh, our country would fall apart!” exclaimed Superman, looking morally affronted by what Bruce had said. 

“Please, don’t insult my work. It’s not me that’s the problem, it’s the system that lets criminal scum like the Falcone and Maroni families get away— pay offs, political puppets, fearmongering, threats— Gotham is dirty. I understand the system, and work around it,” Bruce said, deadly serious. Superman’s eyes widened, and Wonder Woman pursed her lips. 

“Still, I believe vigilantism remains illegal, Mr. Wayne. I’m afraid we will have to turn you over to the police… unless you choose to stop your actions,” said Wonder Woman firmly. Superman nodded, although his eyes betrayed his unease. 

Bruce sighed. So, it had come to this. “Well, you’d have to kill me before I willingly stopped my ‘vigilantism.’ So, I suppose one of two things will happen,” he said, slipping into his ‘Brucie’ voice, “gosh, I was just heading home from a costume party when this strange lady attacked me. She say’s she a princess from another country! Sounds… exotic— almost crazy— to me! Yes, she and this other guy kidnapped me,” he resumed his ‘normal’ voice, “and with that story, and a bribe, I’d be off, because Gotham is corrupt, and who would believe idiot-playboy Bruce Wayne would ever— could ever— be someone as dark and fearsome as Batman? Or, they believe you. In which case, I could still escape and go undercover and you’d never find me again. More likely though, I’d be murdered while in custody, as would those I care about. Either way, it doesn’t look good for you.” 

At his speech, one of Wonder Woman’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch, and even Superman looked like the speech had had an impact on him. “Was that a threat?” she asked in a dangerous tone. 

“Diana,” Superman warned, coming to hover a fraction closer to the woman, muscles tensed to react. She spun to shoot a look at him and the man backed off. 

Compelled to answer, Bruce growled, “Yes. And, may I ask, what makes me any different than you— or him? Is it the fact that I don’t have powers?” 

This time, Superman responded, sounding firm, “I have a duty to help because I’m strong enough to. Same with Wonder Woman. You are an ordinary citizen, Mr. Wayne—" 

Bruce interrupted, snarling, “please, let’s not stand on formalities here, Superman. Call me Bruce. Also, I must say, that’s a rather hypocritical attitude. Even with my large fortune, you say I am an ‘ordinary citizen.’ Well, in that case, I guess I’ll stop donating to Gotham’s Children’s Hospital, the orphanages, the homeless shelters, the East End Free Clinic, the Thomas and Martha Wayne Scholarship fund for Gotham University, and all the rest because I have no ‘duty’ to do these things.” 

“I never said that!” Superman objected. 

Bruce huffed in annoyance. “Well then, what was your point? I believe if it was that I was an ‘average citizen’ and therefore shouldn’t risk myself, it was still inadequate. I can— and do— help people as Batman. Just like I help people as Bruce Wayne by donating to charities,” he explained. Annoyed, he went to cross his arms and winced unconsciously. The meds were wearing off, and he’d been pushing away thoughts of pain, distracted by this interrogation. Suddenly, Wonder Woman stepped forward, and Bruce sat up, trying to disguise his alarm as an adjustment. His heartrate increased slightly. Out of the corner, he watched Superman too, and was displeased that the man seemed to have notice his increased heartrate. 

Wonder Woman brought the bottle of painkillers over and removed the lasso from his wrists, saying, “We will give you a few hours to consider your… choices,” she walked away, but paused and said, “if you did go to the authorities, we would not… allow you to come to extrajudicial harm.” She stalked to the door and walked out. Superman hovered in the air a moment, glancing at Bruce briefly, before nodding once and floating away. Eyeing the pill bottle, he deliberated if it would be worth it to attempt a controlled overdose so he could escape. But he decided against it because it would risk his identity too much. Not that that wasn’t already an issue. 

He growled under his breath, annoyed that he couldn’t even do that without the alien hearing. He looked up again, to see if he could see his captors. No, but that did not mean they were gone from the building. In fact, he would have been surprised if they had gone. Bruce thought that they were deliberating on what to do with him. But, what to do? He still had one lockpick in the waistband of his underwear, but he needed a good opportunity to use it. He did not want to get caught, because he could just image the awkwardness of getting frisked by Wonder Woman, or being x-rayed by the alien. He shuddered. 

That brought up another issue. He was pretty badly off, even Bruce, reluctant as he was, had to admit this. He would need time to escape. Right now, they were probably on high-alert, so if he did manage to escape, he would not get far. Logically, he decided, grimacing as he lay down— Alfred would kill him for the shoulder— he’d have to lull them into complacency. Yes, that would be a good idea. So, Bruce Wayne closed his eyes and began meditating, carefully controlling his heartrate to make his captors— especially the one with super-hearing— think he had fallen asleep, exhausted by his injuries.


	8. Like A Bat Out of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce escapes and heads to Gotham.

Superman followed Diana out of the room after a last glance back at the billionaire vigilante. They closed the door to the small office— hidden behind some crates— and Diana immediately began pacing. “What do we do with him?” Wonder Woman uttered, sounding perplexed. Clark sighed, equally as unsure. He believed that Bruce Wayne— Batman, though that was shocking— thought he was helping. But, Clark was a firm believer in American democracy, and one of its tenants was a free and fair legal justice system. He was as unsure as Diana. 

……………… 

Diana, not for the first time, felt conflicted about something she’d experienced in ‘Man’s world.’ It was true, this Bruce Wayne was trying to help— his testimony under the lasso made it clear. However, it was her sworn duty to uphold the laws of this land as its self-appointed protector. One of those laws made what Wayne was doing illegal. She also heard his appeal— hidden behind a threat— to keep his loved ones safe. Inevitably, they would be in danger if he was exposed. Diana did feel bad about that. However, she reminded herself firmly, he had chosen to do this illegal activity, and was clearly competent enough to realize its potential risks. But still, something nagged in her gut that this wasn’t the right thing to do. They needed more time. So, perhaps they should go back and talk to him more, she mused. She turned to tell this idea to Clark, who nodded. They left the room and walked back to their… ‘prisoner.’ 

……………… 

Batman, or Bruce Wayne— Superman wasn’t quite sure what to call him— was asleep. Honestly, he was a little surprised given the man’s earlier vehemence, but then he remembered how injured he was. Diana walked closer quietly, inspecting. As Wayne turned over, he winced in his sleep as his injured shoulder hit the mattress. Diana flinched, looking guilty. “How long will he be out, do you think?” she asked Clark in a harsh whisper. 

Superman frowned, shrugging. “I don’t know… probably an hour at least. Why?” 

“I would like to see more of Gotham city… to verify his claims about its ‘corrupt’ nature,” she said. 

“Ah,” Superman, a little puzzled, but not totally against the idea, “let’s go then.” 

……………… 

Several hours later, Bruce stirred slowly. He sat up, cursing at how much his head hurt. It had gotten worse, as had his shoulder. For a moment he had trouble placing where he was, but then remembered. He felt stupid that he’d let himself fall asleep while meditating because one, it showed weakness, and two, he had lost time. Additionally, he did not know where either of his captors were, which he would have if he hadn’t fallen asleep. Cautiously, he listened and heard nothing. So, he opened his eyes and sat up, peering around. Nothing. He waited a few more minutes before pulling his leg up, honestly a bit insulted that they’d just leave him unattended. At least the Joker— as much as Bruce detested him— never underestimated Batman. Quickly Bruce slipped his lockpick out of his waist band and got to work on the cuff’s lock. It popped open and Bruce smirked in triumph. 

Next, he stood cautiously, cursing slightly at the pain that went through his ankle, and at the way his concussion made him feel dizzy. Bruce switched into Batman mode, beginning to methodically search his surroundings for his suit top and the cowl— he could not go outside like this— and spotted it on a table in the far corner of the room. This time he managed to get his arm through the sleeve with minimal cursing. They’d even, he saw, looking on the chair, left his belt here. He slipped it on, satisfied to hear the familiar ‘click’ as it slid into place. As he had no idea where he was— he really hoped he was still on the same side of the country at least— he pulled out his small gps and saw he was in Metropolis. The gps also told him it was almost nine p.m., so he decided to call the plane. Just then, his cell phone beeped. He looked at the screen— five missed calls from Alfred… and one text from Selina. Bruce growled, as a pang of worry went through him. He quickly shot off a text to Alfred and Selina: ‘Am fine. Sorry for the AWOL. Will explain later. - B.’ Then he climbed to the roof to wait.


	9. Waiting and Recovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce makes it back to Gotham and prepares for another fight. Selina demands to know what happened, and Alfred politely requests that Bruce not get kidnapped again by meta humans/aliens.

As the Bat-plane landed in the cave, Bruce was jolted from his computer screen. He had been initiating a lock-down of the cave for when Wonder Woman and Superman realized he was gone. He had no idea if— or how— they’d try to recapture him, but he wanted to be as prepared as he could. At the sight of the plane, Alfred Pennyworth— a loyal butler and father-figure to the Bat— rushed over, mouth pressed into a firm line. Bruce sighed. Clearly, he was in trouble. He pressed ‘open’ to the plane’s hatch and hobbled out. Once Alfred saw the Batman step out of his plane, it stopped him from saying whatever he had planned to. A long, tense moment hung over the cave, making even the bats restless. 

“Alfred…” Bruce said after a moment, he took one slightly wobbly step forward— 

“Come now, Master Bruce,” said the English butler, “you’re not about to be hiding injuries from me, are you?” He raised one salt-and-pepper eyebrow and Batman chuckled. 

“But I—” he tried to say 

Alfred grabbed one of his hands and placed it over his shoulder. “—It can wait until morning, Master Bruce. Batman must be attended to first, and then it’s off to bed with you,” he interrupted. Bruce sighed, a slight smile on his face. He knew better than to interrupt Alfred. Oh yes, the man was still furious at him, but he was also relieved, and wanted this moment to reassure himself of his foster-son’s continued well-being. 

……………… 

Two hours later, Bruce had a new brace around his ankle, a wrap for his shoulder, and many other bandages and salves applied to help him heal. Despite his warning that he should really stay in the cave because of things that had made him go AWOL, Alfred insisted he go upstairs to the manor “like a proper human being, Master Wayne” to get some sleep in his own bed. So, Bruce had done that, and when he’d first sunk down into his bed, found himself agreeing with Alfred. God, he’d forgotten how nice this bed was. 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets were certainly worth the money. After that, he’d found his eyes growing heavy and he’d slowly succumbed to sleep. 

……………… 

Selina Kyle had heard, via a ten second voice mail from one Alfred Pennyworth, that a certain flying rodent was back in town. She had, herself, received a text message— infuriatingly vague and emotionless— from said rodent. However, she had no idea of the rodent’s condition. So, she dawned her night-wear to find out… Half an hour later, she had penetrated the Wayne estate’s grounds and was heading for the Manor. Her suit’s sensors told her security was on high alert, which meant it’d only be a little harder than usual to break in. With a purr, she launched herself at the wall and felt her claws take a hold of the rough brick. She scaled the building to the proper window and with a little help from her lock pick, jimmied the window open and was into the mansion. Catwoman made quick work of the silent alarmed security system with one of her frequency jammers and was on her way. 

Entering the dark room was a new experience for her and she was tempted to take a quick peek around before going to the rodent. But, she saw a breathing lump in the absurdly large bed, and her gaze widened as she drew nearer. He was about as asleep as she’d ever seen him— she doubted even a full piece band would wake him now. Also, she counted at least three bandages from what she could see, which wasn’t a lot, because he was snuggled under the blanket. She repressed a chuckle at the sight. Lightly, she peeled back his blankets, eliciting a frown from him, and nearly gasped. Bruce was mottled over with bruises and had even more bandages— and casts— than she had expected. He grumbled again at the loss of his blankets and she got a wicked grin on her face. With a jerk, she removed the rest of his blankets, and leaned down to kiss him. At that, he jerked awake, with a wince that almost made Selina regret her actions… almost. 

He squinted into the dark and asked hesitantly, “Selina?” 

She purred, “Who else would it be?” while she added ‘concussion’ to the list of Batman’s symptoms— he had better night vision usually. He chuckled slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked sleepily, looking mournfully at his lost blankets. 

“I’m here because a certain rodent got into a bad situation and I, idiotically, wanted to see if the rodent was ok,” she said a little harshly. But, she threw his blanket back to him and sat on the edge of his bed. He tried— and failed— not to look too grateful about either occurrence. 

“Oh,” he said cautiously, “I’m… alright. Might have some trouble later, but I don’t think it’s anything I can’t handle, Cat… If I need you, I’ll call.” At these gentle words, Selina was mostly appeased. It was big for him to even admit that he might need help, let alone telling her he would ask her for it. 

“Thank you,” she said. He nodded, but was cut off by a yawn. 

“I should go,” she said, after a moment’s pause. He shook his head. 

“No, you don’t need to… I should probably get up anyway, I’ve been away from Gotham for too long,” he said, making to sit up. Selina flopped back dramatically— not too hard— but enough to prevent him from going anywhere. 

“Nah, I think I’ll stay right here,” she said, “thanks, Bat.” Bruce sighed, knowing what she was doing, but was too much of a gentleman to stop it. A few minutes later, he had once again lapsed into snores, and Selina soon joined him. 

In the morning, as Alfred came into Bruce’s room to announce breakfast, he was surprised to see Bruce’s bed-mate, sleeping curled at his side. He retreated from the room, deciding that some things were more important that the first meal of the day. 

……………… 

A month after the ‘incident,’ and nothing had actually happened. Bruce had told an edited version of events to both Selina and Alfred, and had maintained the heightened security in the manor and cave for two weeks after he’d gotten home. But… nothing. He was puzzled, but decided to let things be— for now. Oh, he’d definitely started doing more research on this Superman and Wonder Woman and had upped his training regimen to what Alfred deridingly called “body building levels” to be safe. 

But still, nothing, until one day, as he’d been pretending to be half-asleep at another board meeting, a photo had popped up on the power point that had made him pay more attention. As his stock holders had droned on and on, giving a speech on how Wayne Corp Metropolis was doing, Bruce Wayne— who had done almost nothing in his life, or at these meetings— suddenly sat up, looking almost frighteningly alert. He pointed at the building in the presentation and said, “Buy that warehouse.” He said nothing else the whole meeting, but his investors would be whispering about it for weeks to come. 

……………… 

As Bruce saw the warehouse— the ‘base’ of Wonder Woman and Superman— come on screen, he suddenly felt an urge to do something. Part of him did think that disrupting his… enemies?... was the smart thing to do, in case they were planning to take him by surprise. However, they also knew who he was, and would therefore know that it was his company that had bought their ‘hideout.’ But they did not know if it was him who’d ordered the buy. So, he was safe because of a modicum of doubt on their part... probably. If Bruce were being honest with himself, he’d also felt the impulse to buy the building out of a sense of pettiness. They had used their power over him, and now he was returning the favor. It’d show them what happened when one messed with the Bat. 

This was a potentially stupid move, but at the same time, there were some potentially vast rewards. One, he could sneak into the building before the renovations to see if he’d be able to learn more about either of his superpowered opponents, and as their surprise and stress over having to move would most assuredly make them sloppy, they’d be likely to leave behind more clues for the Bat to find. Also, it was an opportunity to gain another foothold in Metropolis, earning profit for his company, and disrupting Lex Luthor. Additionally, he might be able to build a bat-fort there, depending on the reactions of the supers. He didn’t want them to go snooping through his building and disrupt any of his plans. So, he thought, he really was justified in acting on his petty notions.


	10. So, We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce returns to the warehouse in Metropolis to investigate, and runs into someone while he's there.

Five months later, Bruce Wayne sat in a chair in his office, newspaper spread out in front of him, smirk on his face. Alfred paused in his dusting to ask, “Something I should know about, Master Bruce?” The billionaire smiled a rare, toothy grin. 

“Oh, no, Alfred,” he said lightly, “I just bought some property for Wayne Enterprises in Metropolis. I think it’ll pay off nicely.” 

“Ah,” said the butler knowingly, “let us hope that it does indeed, sir.” 

……………… 

Later that week, the Bat of Gotham city was crouched down on the floor of said building, tweezers in hand, picking up one long, black hair he hoped would yield data about ‘Wonder Woman.’ Over the past five and a half months, he had learned quite a lot about her, and Superman too. For instance, he knew they were blossoming heroes in Washington D.C. and Metropolis. He also knew more about their powers and weaknesses due to their recent bouts of media exposure. 

While he did still carry a grudge, and was wary of them, he also admired the work they were doing and felt he may have misjudged them… slightly. Did that mean he was ready to run into them now? No. In fact, just being here had him slightly on edge, which irritated him. Bruce had faced worse than an overpowered alien and a demi-goddess. Hell, he’d trained to face tougher too. He shouldn’t be afraid. But he kept circling back to the way the woman had almost crushed him several times during their fight— he had the cowl footage to prove it, and had watched it over, and over again— or to the Superman’s errant display of raw, god-like power, and felt an unusual sense of unease ripple through him. 

Snarling, he forced his internal dialogue to change subjects and stuffed the hair into a plastic evidence bag, placing that in a pouch of his utility belt. Silently, Batman stood in one elegant swoop, cape hovering behind him dramatically. He slowly paced around the room, looking for anything else. But his thoughts kept disobeying, and he shook his head and muttered under his breath. After an hour more of searching, Batman called it quits. He’d be unable to find anything else here tonight with the headspace he was in. What he needed to do right now was get out onto the streets of Gotham and find some criminals to teach a lesson to. Hopefully that would clear out his mood and allow him to focus on gathering more information here later. 

With that plan in mind, he went to the roof to call the car over from its hidden parking place a few blocks away— he’d driven to Metropolis, even though it’d taken an hour because he wanted to be less conspicuous. He looked out at the city, his mouth in a displeased line. Bruce always forgot how much he disliked this city until he was here. It was the opposite of Gotham— too cheerful and blank. No character or shadows in it. Metropolis looked towards the future, not taking heed of the sins of the past or the errors of the present. It wasn’t right. Suddenly, a voice broke through his reverie. “Uh… hello, Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” came the voice of the Superman, right behind Bruce.


	11. Hi, Sorry I Kidnapped You!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After doing some reconnaissance on the warehouse, Bruce runs into Superman, who actually apologizes for his earlier actions. Could he be sincere? Nah, probably not.

Bruce startled slightly, and chastised himself for it. His heart was going faster, and he took one deep breath. As he whirled around to face the alien, he sneakily checked how far out the car was— two blocks away. “What do you want?” Batman growled, doing his best not to show his unease at the situation. Superman floated about a foot closer and Batman took one small step back. He reached towards his belt and waited for the other man to make a move. At this, Superman looked a bit sheepish and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I… I guess I just wanted to apologize after I saw you here— almost didn’t catch you because there was a fire— I looked into what you’re doing in Gotham, and I have to say… it’s pretty impressive. So, yeah…” said the other man. Batman drew a blank at his words, actually, at the man in general. He was so… proper; very unlike the Batman, or Bruce, for that matter. When the Bat didn’t say anything, Superman looked a bit more flustered and Bruce kicked his brain into action. 

“Ok…” he said bluntly, stalling for time. Somehow, Superman seemed to take this as acceptance, and grinned a mile wide. He zoomed to Bruce’s side and set down. This was a bit alarming for Batman, whose only previous experience with the man— alien— had been after the unfortunate aftermath of his fight with Wonder Woman. There was no way in hell he was trusting him. But Bruce did his best to hide his reactions to the alien. He wasn’t sure it worked that well. 

“Are you busy?” asked Superman. This threw Bruce for another loop and he started at the alien for a moment, before being prompted, “Batman?” 

Bruce shook his head, kicking himself mentally for allowing the alien to so obviously fluster him. “Yes,” he said firmly, “I am busy. All day— and night.” The alien deflated a little and Bruce tried not to feel like he’d kicked a puppy. It made him angry, this naïve act the alien was trying to pull on him. No one that powerful could be as… decent as Superman seemed to be. 

“Oh,” said Superman, “I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee— or something— and get to know each other better, since we’ll probably have to work together at some point.” 

Bruce growled, “I work alone, and Batman doesn’t ‘get coffee’ with anyone.” As he finished the sentence, the vid screen in his cowl alerted him that the car was here. With a flick of his wrist, he activated glide mode on the cape and said, “Stay out of Gotham.” Then he dove off the building— and smirked at the way Superman rushed to the edge, clearly concerned about him— and opened the top of the car. He landed in the driver’s seat, closed the top of the car, and deactivated glide mode on the cape. Then he buckled up and put his foot on the gas before the alien could decide to ruin his night further by following him or stopping him from leaving. 

……………… 

Clark was flying over Metropolis, doing a nightly scan for trouble— he’d just helped put out a fire, a small one thankfully— when he saw Batman. He was actually pretty impressed, because he had almost missed seeing the other man, given how well his dark and foreboding costume blended into the scant shadows that were present in Metropolis. Immediately, he swung around to hover near the vigilante— hero. When he spoke, Clark almost winced at how Batman’s— Bruce Wayne’s— heartrate spiked. He’s scared, or nervous, because of me, Clark thought, cringing at that. 

He still felt guilty about what Wonder Woman and he had done. That was why he’d turned around when he had first seen the Bat. His ma raised him to acknowledge his mistakes and apologize for them if they affected other people. So, he did his best, and was now kicking himself for how incredibly awkward he’d sounded. But, then again, the Bat had seemed like what Clark had said had thrown him for a loop. Maybe he just doesn’t get out that much, Clark thought. But that couldn’t be right, he reminded himself, puzzled, because the man was Bruce Wayne; he went to parties all the time. 

This line of thought was like crawling down a rabbit hole, and Clark sighed. See, if he hadn’t scared the Bat earlier, maybe the man would have accepted his invitation, and Clark would have an answer to his query. He was genuinely sorry for his poor treatment and misjudgment of Batman earlier and upon review of his actions— both in costume and out— he saw that Bruce was a good man, generally. Was he perfect? No, but then, nobody was— not even Clark himself. He sighed, shaking his head as he flew away from the warehouse’s roof. He would have to come up with a plan to get the Batman to trust him. Clark figured it wouldn’t be easy. 

……………… 

After driving back to Gotham in an irritated mood, Bruce immediately went on the prowl for any crimes to stop. He growled, and called it a night at only 12:30 a.m.— it had been shockingly quiet, as if Gotham’s scum had sensed the disorder rippling through the universe after Superman’s conversation with Batman. Bruce growled again. 

“Anything wrong, Sir?” asked Alfred from behind the monitor screen in the Batcave. Bruce pulled down his cowl. 

Replying sullenly, he said, “No, Alfred. Just a slow night.” 

“Hm.” was all his butler had to say. He began dusting in front of the screen, making it impossible for Batman to get any work done. Bruce took the hint. 

He stood, and said, “I’m heading up, Alfred. Good night.” His butler smiled softly. 

“Good night, Sir,” he said.


	12. Return of Roxy Rocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Superman's villains makes a trip across the bay, necessitating a team-up between Batman and Superman. Will they be able to look past their differences to save the city?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite episodes of Batman TAS. Roxy was such a great villain.

Boom! A small rocket flew towards Batman, who dodged it gracefully, and it hit the warehouse, exploding itself and the brick, into a million tiny, dangerous chunks. Bruce cursed as the shock wave hurtled him forwards. He did a tuck roll and came to stand on his feet as Roxy Rocket dive-bombed him again. This time he was ready, shooting out his grappling hook to attach to the back of her vehicle. With a sudden, jarring yank, he was airborne, and allowed the grapple to reel him in. When he was close enough, he disconnected the grappling hook with a ‘click’ and moved behind Roxy silently. She spun at the last moment— completely neglecting the steering of the airborne giant rocket— and purred, “Ah! If it isn’t the most daring of knights, Batman! So lovely to see you again, dear. Although, I must confess, I am a little disappointed in you after your performance last time. I thought you were more man than that.” 

Batman groaned internally. Great, he thought, it was back to this. Why did he always get saddled with the crazies? It wasn’t like he advertised for it or anything. Just once, he’d like to solve a nice simple burglary or something. And now Superman’s scum was coming to pollute his city. Next thing he knew, Livewire would be crossing the bay. “Give up, Roxy. This isn’t a fight you’re going to win. I know that the GCPD already have a squad of officers on the way, and have also sent over the police blimps,” he growled. She laughed, sending them into an abrupt divebomb. Bruce stumbled forward, almost falling off the rocket. He caught himself with his gauntlet on one side, but was now in a precarious perch on the nose of the rocket— more alarmingly, blocking Roxy’s view of where they were flying. 

“Oh, baby, I thought you knew me better than that,” she scolded mockingly. “If I were the ‘giving up’ kind of girl, why, I’d have done it years ago!” With that, she smirked, and pressed a few buttons on the vehicle. “Now, I hate to go,” she continued, strapping on what looked alarmingly like a parachute, “but I’ve got things to steal, and places to disappear to. Au revoir!” She jumped off the back end of the rocket, saluting Batman as she descended into the night sky. 

“Self-destruct in 10 minutes,” said a cold, monotone, computerized voice. Bruce groaned, both from annoyance at that and at the sudden onslaught of g-force from the rocket’s tailspin. Gritting his teeth, he spun quickly to see where he was heading— the shipping yard. While this was better than, say, downtown, or a hospital, there were sure to be at least a few dockworkers— or criminals— there who would die when the rocket exploded; that is, if Batman couldn’t deactivate it in time. He grasped the windshield of the vehicle with his free hand while trying to detach his gauntleted hand from the nose of the rocket. He found that due to the violent fighting, and heat from the rocket’s engine, the nose had fused to his gauntlets. Cursing, he took out his grapple, strapped his belt to one end, and shot it around the other end, so he was looped to the rocket. Then he took out a bat-a-rang and began hacking at his glove. 

Finally, after the voice had announced “seven minutes until self-destruction” Batman managed to cut himself free, bleeding a fair amount from several minor stab wounds from his own bat-a-rang. He fell a few inches, but was caught by the grappling line. He pulled himself up into the driver’s seat and strapped his feet in. A quick glance at the controls allowed him to engage auto pilot while he used his bat-a-rang to rip open the dash of the thing to stop the self-destruct. As he began moving wires, the rocket suddenly vibrated, shocking him. His feet fell out of the stirrups and he found himself flying behind the rocket, ankle tangled in his grappling line. He cursed, making to climb back up, when a pair of red boots and cape appeared in his field of vision. 

“Need a hand?” asked the alien. Bruce scowled, both angry that he’d allowed himself to be so stupid and at the fact that the alien had seen it. He finally managed to catch the line with one hand and grunted as he hauled himself upright. 

“No. I’m fine. If anything, you should be finding Roxy Rocket,” he said murderously. 

“Already did!” exclaimed the red-caped menace, grinning annoyingly. Batman huffed. 

Superman hovered as the rocket announced, “two minutes left to self-destruct.” 

“Are you sure you don’t need me?” the other man asked hesitantly. Bruce sighed, mentally calculating. He could do it— Joker had given him lots of practice disarming bombs— but as Roxy Rocket was his villain, Bruce decided Superman might be more familiar with her weapons. 

“I already opened up the dash. Make sure you disarm it before it hits the shipyard,” Bruce growled. Superman nodded, suddenly looking more serious than Bruce had seen him before. But then he hesitated. 

“What about you?” he asked. 

Bruce fixed him with a look. “Cut through my line. My cape has a gliding ability— I’ll be fine. Just disarm this rocket!” Superman spared a quick, doubtful look between the ground and Batman before his eyes went red. 

“Ready?” he asked. Bruce barely had time to nod before he was free-falling over a warehouse. He snapped out his arms and felt his cape catch on the wind and he slowed with a bone-jarring suddenness. But then, he felt a shudder go through his cape, and heard a sudden high-pitched whistling. With growing dread, he scanned each side of his cape… and saw a small, fifty cent-sized hole in the left side of his cape. He cursed— some of the debris from the exploding warehouse must have ripped his cape without him noticing. 

As he fell rapidly towards the buildings below, the hole began to shudder. Desperately, he tucked in his arms and began to circle, to slow his descent and hopefully alleviate the pressure on his cape. But the hole was still whistling and suddenly, it blew out. Bruce was going slowly enough that a fall from this height wouldn’t kill him… but he didn’t want to find out what it would feel like. Thinking quickly, he shot his secondary grappling line out and it caught on a warehouse that was at least three stories taller than its companions. He saw the roof of another building coming towards him as he swung in an arch towards it. Batman braced himself, and tucked into a ‘ready’ position, spreading out his cape to slow his momentum as best he could. With a bang! he hit the roof and rolled forward, rolling over repeatedly until his motion was halted by his slamming against the retaining wall. “Ow,” Bruce muttered, before everything went black. 

……………… 

Superman had been flying around Metropolis, looking for Roxy Rocket when he began to hear news reports that said she was fighting Batman somewhere in Gotham. He sighed. This was just what he needed to better relations with the dark hero. Clark was sure Batman would be very happy about Superman’s supposed ‘interference’ in his city. With an ever-suffering sigh, the beacon of hope for Metropolis went to fly across the bay to Gotham city. Once there, he scanned the city for sounds of Roxy’s infamous rocket, or of Batman. He heard their voices— and Batman’s absurdly calm heartbeat about four blocks away. He flew towards them, wincing as an explosion accosted his super-sensitive ears. Clark shook his head and flew on. 

He saw Batman grapple onto Roxy’s rocket and begin to fight her. He hesitated, unsure of how it would make the other man feel if he stepped in. But when Roxy parachuted off, Superman left momentarily to follow her; he set her down besides the nearest member of the GCPD. When Bruce— Batman, he corrected— fell off and was caught by his grappling hook around the ankle, he decided that it was an acceptable time for Superman to begin saving the day. So, when Batman cooperated, he decided to listen to him when the other man asked, heart beating steadily, to cut the only thing that was keeping him from falling to the Earth. Dubiously, Superman complied, turning to the main task at hand: disarming Roxy’s rocket. 

Similar to her others, once you had the pattern, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. Superman sped through the process and once he’d disarmed the rocket, he flew in front of it and brought it to a stop. Carefully, he switched the thing off and carried it back to the GCPD to let them deal with it. Then he began to look for Batman, a sick knot of worry beginning to form in his stomach. He flew in a loop past where they’d been fighting twice before he picked up a heartbeat, and somebody saying, “Ow.” Clark’s hear skipped a beat and he rushed to the rooftop where he’d heard Batman. He saw the other man sprawled on the ground in a clumsy heap, looking injured and dazed. 

“Batman,” he called, alarmed, “can you hear me?” Batman weakly tried to turn to look at Clark— which was a good sign— but winced at the movement and gave up. 

“Did you disarm the rocket?” he groaned. Clark nodded before remembering that Batman couldn’t see him. 

“Y-yes,” he said. 

“Good,” groaned the dark hero before he promptly passed out again.


	13. A Day in the Life of Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is 'rescued' by Clark, and meets the man's alter-ego.

Bruce came-to with a jerk, somehow sensing someone else’s touch on his forehead. He caught the offending person’s arm before they could try anything else. He blinked, realizing that his ‘attacker’ was Superman, and released his wrist. The next thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming in through a window— with a view of Metropolis. He looked around and saw that he was in somebody’s bedroom… and that he once again was not adequately clothed in front of the man of steel. He sat up, and nearly groaned aloud from the way his back and ribs and— actually most of him— protested from the movements. The whole time, the other man had just stood there, silently observing. “What happened?” questioned Bruce, not at all happy about how crackly his voice sounded. Superman sighed, sounding like he was going to begin an Alfred-style rant. Bruce used the opportunity to look for pieces of his suit, so he could get out of here. 

“We were fighting Roxy Rocket and you told me to cut your grappling line… the one keeping you attached to the rocket, the one keeping you from falling hundreds of feet through the air towards the ground. I was stupid enough to do it and after I’d disarmed the bomb in Roxy’s rocket— and caught her— I found you passed out on a roof, as you’d obviously lied about your ability to ‘be fine’ if I cut your grappling line,” said the alien, sounding hurt by Bruce’s supposed lie. Batman growled, drawing himself up to his full height— or, as much of it as he could, seeing as he was almost lying down, and his ribs were killing him— he did not like to be lectured even by Alfred, let alone this alien. Additionally, he took his own integrity seriously; if he said he could do something, he did it. He hadn’t lied about his cape’s ability to glide… he’d simply miscalculated. 

“A chunk of brick from an earlier explosion tore a hole in my cape and it blew open; I didn’t realize until after I was falling. So, for your information, Superman, I didn’t lie,” Bruce growled, feeling exposed and frustrated. 

“Oh,” said the other man, sounding a little sheepish. Bruce huffed, feeling cornered and vulnerable without his cowl or suit. As if sensing his thoughts, Superman… blushed, and stammered, “Err… your suit kind of got… destroyed. After we got back here. I wasn’t sure how to take it off and I needed to see how bad your injuries were more clearly. So, I might have had to … rip it off.” Bruce stared at him a minute, not sure he had heard the words right. 

“You… ripped my suit off?” he asked, carefully remembering to breathe, so he could speak with an even tone. 

Superman winced. “Sorry?” he said, peeking at Bruce. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Sure, he had a lot of suits. But they were expensive, and he didn’t like having to spend the time to break in a new one, or to correct the minute errors that came when one cloned something in large quantities. This was the one thing that pushed him over the edge. 

“First of all, where are we, and, why didn’t you just look for the suit’s hidden zippers before ripping it off? Also, Superman, please, keep Metropolis’s trash out of Gotham; I have enough criminals to deal with as is,” Bruce growled, standing wobblily, with a blanket wrapped around his upper half for modesty. 

“Where are you going?” demanded Superman, now sounding angry. In reality, he was frustrated at this mortal man for having, apparently, no appreciation for his own life or for Clark’s assistance. And the way he coldly dismissed and bullied— it wasn’t like Superman tried to make his villains move cities. Even Clark couldn’t do everything! Bruce spun, and for the first time, Clark could see how Bruce Wayne could be Batman, even if he logically knew he was. 

“I am going to find the pieces of my suit and go home,” he said stiffly, turning away from Clark determinedly. Now incredibly frustrated, Clark flew in front of him and stood in his way. 

“Move,” growled Bruce, staring daggers at Clark with his suddenly icy blue eyes. 

“No,” Clark said, putting all of his authority as Superman into it, “you’re injured— you need rest, and probably food, first. Second, it’s daylight and you don’t have a costume; if you were thinking clearly, you’d see that it would be stupid to go out now. You can wait here until dark. Lastly, how dare you imply that I ‘let’ my villains spread to Gotham. Do you know how hard I work— I don’t just watch over my city! I watch over THE WORLD. Every day, I hear hundreds— thousands— of cries: ‘help me!’ ‘Please, help!’ ‘Save me!’ all the time. It’s never ending, but I try to answer them… every one I can.” At that outburst, Clark closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He composed himself, and stopped hovering in front of Batman. 

After a moment of silence, Bruce said, “So you do get angry…” Clark wasn’t sure how to take the awkward statement, but from his limited— but growing— knowledge of the bat, he thought it might be an attempt at appeasement, or an apology. He sighed, but managed a small, tired smile. 

“Maybe,” he replied. 

……………… 

After that, the two men came to a kind of understanding. Clark quietly made them sandwiches and explained what had happened and where they were. Batman silently devoured the first sandwich, so Superman made himself another half and Bruce another whole. To his shock, and somewhat bemused, slightly squeamish impressedness, the man ate that too. But he didn’t want to try their odd truce, so he said nothing. Then the other man softly asked where the remnants of his suit were, as he had communication devices in his belt and he needed to contact a few people to let them know he was ok. Clark led him to the closet, where the belt and the pitiful scraps were piled into an old cardboard moving box. Then he left the man alone, sensing he might want privacy. But after a while, Bruce returned to Clark’s living room. Without thinking, he suddenly blurted, “Do you want a change of clothes, or something— you can use my shower…” For a moment, Bruce looked at him as if Clark had grown a second head. 

But then the bat surprised Superman again by replying, sounding slightly amused, “Sure, to the shower bit.” Unsure of what to say, Clark nodded. 

……………… 

Once alone in the bathroom, Bruce locked the door and stripped, trying not to think about how the alien could x-ray through the walls and see him naked if he really wanted to. He saw, happily, a small washing machine tucked into the corner of the room— and a dryer too. Bruce put his pathetic pile of clothes— his boxers, tank-top, and under-suit spandex in with some soap and started the machine. Then he hopped in the shower and tried not to scream at how painful the nearly scorching water felt against his bruised, tender muscles at first. After he was done, he popped his clothes into the dryer for a quick dry while he toweled off. He dressed and outside the bathroom door, found a pair of soft-looking slippers and a robe that hadn’t been there before. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to borrow anything from Superman. But then, the man had welcomed him into his home— and had tried to save his life, even if he didn’t need saving— and he didn’t want to be rude. He sighed softly, making a mental note to add to his file on the alien: has a complex about saving people/ helping. Then he put on the robe and slippers and shuffled out into the living room. 

……………… 

The alien was reading a newspaper— The Daily Planet, Bruce saw. He looked up as Batman walked in and stood awkwardly at the edge of the couch, looking like a wild animal. He put aside the newspaper, and repressed a sigh. “Sit,” he said, trying not to make it sound like an order. Batman complied, but seemed to… close in on himself somehow. Clark x-rayed his wall, so he could see the clock he kept on his bedside table. It was 8:30 a.m.— not terribly late. He could bring in coffee for everyone and Perry would probably forgive him if he also volunteered to do that sports article that no one wanted to do for next month’s issue. “Listen,” he said, turning towards Batman, “I have to go, I’ll probably be gone until around four or so. If you need anything, call. Oh, and you can help yourself to anything in the fridge,” he fixed the other man with a firm stare, “Please don’t leave.” Batman looked at him, clearly trying not to squirm. 

“Fine,” he finally said. 

“Thanks,” Clark said, speeding off.


	14. A Day in Superman's Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce agreed to not leave before it got dark, so he's forced to spend the day in Superman's apartment. After returning from work, Clark makes Batman dinner.

After he left Batman, Clark grabbed his briefcase, a change of clothes, and a few other necessities. He flew to the farm, and hugged his mother hello. Then he bolted upstairs to use the shower and changed. As he was gelling his hair into place, he asked, “Ma, do you know if Mary’s diner is still selling bulk coffee?” The answer was yes, so he bought a gallon of black coffee and claimed his mother was making coffee cake. He packed everything up and reheated the coffee with his heat vision as he walked into work. 

As predicted, Perry scolded, “Kent! Why are you late!” but forgave him when he proffered hot, fresh coffee and volunteered to do that sports story. The rest of the day was as hectic as its beginning, as the deadline for the sports story was already close, so Clark had to scramble to catch up, not to mention deal with the rest of his work. So, when it was quitting time, he remembered Batman’s presence in his apartment with a jolt. 

“What’s wrong, Smallville?” asked Lois, probably seeing his suddenly pale complexion. 

Clark snapped himself out of it, and forced an easy smile onto his face for her. “Oh, nothing, Lois. I just remembered I’m having company over in a few days and I need to clean still,” he lied. Lois smirked, knowing how clumsy and generally disorganized Clark was. 

“Ah, well, good luck,” she teased. Clark blushed. 

“Thanks, Lois,” he said, turning to escape before anything else held him up. 

……………… 

When he got back, Clark sighed, half contented to be done with work for the day, half anxious that his ‘bat-sitting’ was awaiting him. But instead of silence, or passive aggressive comments, he heard… snoring. He silently shut his door and floated over to the source. Batman was sprawled— as much as one could sprawl on a couch— mouth slightly parted, hair messy. Clark didn’t want to wake him; the man seemed to need sleep, and a glance out the window gave him an excuse: it was still light; too dangerous for the Batman to be out and about. Clark gave himself a little time to relax and made himself a snack before going out on a quick patrol, promising himself to keep an ear peeled in case Batman woke up anytime soon, which he doubted. 

……………… 

Thankfully, his city seemed to want to cooperate that afternoon, and he didn’t have to do much, just stop a few robberies, and help guide one ship into Metropolis’s shipyard. After another hour of patrol— just in case something did happen— he headed home. He was a little surprised to see that not only was Batman still there, he was still asleep. Shrugging, Clark decided that he probably needed it. Clark changed out of his uniform and quietly entered his kitchen, which was connected to the living room and only divided by a structural wall. He remembered how much Batman had eaten earlier and debated whether he should call take out or not. After rummaging around the fridge, he decided that he had enough ingredients to make pasta for the two of them. It’d be cheaper, anyhow, Clark noted, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove top. 

As the water began to boil, Clark heard movement from the living room. Batman stood up, robe rustling slightly, and Clark hear joints popping and Batman’s quiet grunts of pain. The other man shuffled into the kitchen, looking like he’d been asleep all day. As Clark stirred the marinara sauce, he noted the way Bruce Wayne’s hair stood up on one side, and how his cheek had pillow marks. Just like the rest of us, he thought, vaguely amused. “What time is it?” grumbled the billionaire. 

Turning to hide his amused smile, Clark replied, “Almost five thirty.” The other man glanced out the window at the waning light and looked almost as if he wished to speed it up. He then turned towards Clark, smoothing out his hair as he did. Clark mused, he seems to like keeping up a good appearance. He added it to his ongoing mental cataloguing of Bruce Wayne. The other man opened his mouth, looking determined, but was interrupted by Clark’s kitchen timer— in the shape of a laying hen— announcing that the pasta was done. 

Knowing very well, somehow, that the other man was trying to make an excuse to leave, Clark said brightly, “Well! That’s the pasta. Give me about five more minutes and dinner will be done.” 

“Hnn,” said Bruce. 

……………… 

After Superman had made him promise not to leave, something Bruce was regretting agreeing to a couple hours later, he’d checked his bandages, eaten a piece of toast, even though that was hardly enough to satisfy him, and gone through the alien’s book shelf. Now it was noon and he was sitting with some mindless talk show on, listening to the middle-aged female hosts squabbling about something or other. As the wall clock ticked another minute gone by, he sighed. There was nothing for him to do here. Bruce wasn’t used to inactivity and it showed in the way he twitched at every loud sound that floated up from the far-below streets of this unfamiliar city. He sighed again and went to the t.v. menu to see if there was anything useful on. He flipped over to the Gotham News, but surprisingly nothing major was going on. He went back to the menu before coming across a Japanese-language game show. It seemed to be amateur Samurai fights. This was mildly interesting to Bruce, and was a vast improvement over the mindlessness of other daytime t.v. He half-watched it for a while before noticing that he was nodding off. 

Bruce would blink, and then lose a few seconds— minutes— before his head drooped and woke him. He went on like this for a few minutes more, determined not to show any more weakness in front of the alien, and that, in his opinion, included sleeping. But to his chagrin, he just couldn’t seem to stop falling asleep. Batman decided that it would be better to fall asleep without the television on than with; he didn’t know what would be on this channel next and he didn’t want to be caught asleep with something risqué playing. So, he flicked off the t.v. with a huff and settled back to close his eyes. Just for a while. 

The next thing he knew, he heard the sound of water boiling from the kitchen, almost as if somebody was making pasta. Blearily, he blinked and stood, trying to ignore the stiffness that was pretty much everywhere and the pop of his joints. Ambling into the kitchen revealed the source of the noise was indeed cooking pasta… with the alien in front of the stove, apparently making some kind of sauce too. A glance out the window revealed that it was dark— barely. Bruce turned to tell the alien he was leaving, but the other man seemed almost to sense his train of thought and said, after the timer interrupted Bruce, to stay for dinner. Again, Bruce wasn’t sure why, he agreed. 

……………… 

They ate in silence at first. Bruce looked up, and with a jolt, realized that the alien wasn’t wearing his suit, but a plaid button-up shirt and a pair of dark navy suit trousers. He also had on a pair of thick black glasses. Bruce squinted over his pasta— his face seemed familiar— but then, Bruce Wayne met a lot of people. Evidently though, either he wasn’t as sneaky as he’d thought, or the alien was sharper than Batman had given him credit for, because the other man said, “Ah… I should probably introduce myself. I’m Clark Kent, reporter at The Daily Planet.” Ah. That was it; Bruce distinctly remembered the almost comically clumsy, hulking man from a joint press conference with Luthor as they announced one of their projects. If Bruce remembered correctly, that was the one where Batman had caught Luthor at corporate espionage and had shut down Lexcorp Gotham for a while. 

“Thought I knew your face,” Bruce half muttered, openly taking in the alien’s— Kent’s face. The other man offered a half smile-smirk. 

“I could say the same. I was at—" 

“—That press conference with Luthor and I. I remember,” Bruce said. The other man laughed. 

“Yes! I’m surprised you do though. I try to make Clark as inconspicuous as possible. Most of the rich and famous, not to mention my colleagues, don’t remember him— me,” he confessed. Bruce smirked at this. 

“It’s my job to notice. ‘World’s Greatest Detective,’ and all that? And I distinctly remember wondering how someone so huge and obviously fit as you could be so clumsy,” Bruce said, almost chuckling. 

“How could I forget,” said Clark amusedly— Bruce noted that he was much more emotionally expressive, even as his alter ego— “So now I assume it was you who broke that espionage scandal? I have to admit, that was a joy to write about. I try not to be vindictive, but Luthor and I have… something of a history. The man hates me. But despite my best efforts, I’ve never really been able to nail anything to him for long.” 

Bruce took another bite of his pasta, and chewed for a moment. Then he said sagely, “I’m not surprised. It took me almost a month to get anything. But once you’ve got a lead, especially with someone like Luthor, you’re in the clear. He spends most of his efforts on keeping people out, so if you manage to find something, then it’s somewhat easier to catch him. Not to say that he’s unintelligent— the man’s very, very smart. But his ego gets in the way.” With a jolt, he realized that Superman was looking at him— and now that he knew the man’s alter ego, he could name the scrutinizing look: that of an investigative journalist. He tensed a moment but forced himself to relax and eat another bite of the surprisingly decent pasta. He was hungry, and the faster he ate, the quicker he could leave, and the sooner the better. Before I bare my soul anymore to Kent, Bruce thought wryly. 

The men finished their meals in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Bruce found it companionable, which was a slightly terrifying word to use in context of the alien. He set that thought aside as something to deal with later. Once they were done with their meals, Bruce offered to help clean up, as he’d been a thorn in Kent’s side for over 24 hours. But the man protested, and Bruce gave up, the desire to return back to Gotham overwhelming his (already negligent) social skills. Kent unceremoniously handed him a box filled with the remains of his suit and Bruce put the cowl on before sneaking onto Kent’s roof to await the arrival of the Bat-jet. It appeared, almost silently, and Bruce grappled into the pilot’s seat with a feeling of relief. It was about time he headed home.


	15. Absurd Generosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gives Clark an absurd gift, because he's a billionaire with no concept of how much money average people have. Clark re-evaluates his and Bruce's relationship.

The next month, Clark walked into his apartment, envelopes stuffed between his teeth, groceries in both hands, and his brief case tucked under one arm. He flipped through the mail, groaning slightly. Bills, bills, bills. But wait, he thought, where was the rent? He quickly unloaded the groceries and set aside his briefcase, so he could scan the mail again. It wasn’t there. Frowning, he opened the other envelope with the seal of his bank and read aloud. “This letter is intended for Clark Kent, to signify an account transfer of THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!” he nearly dropped the letter. 

No wonder he hadn’t gotten any statements about the rent. With this much money, he would be able to pay his rent, worry-free, for a year. The question was, how had he gotten the money. Nobody he knew was that ri— wait. Had Bruce sent him this? He looked back at their previous interactions and came up blank on any actions that would warrant this. But… then he remembered the common courtesy he’d done for Bruce by letting him stay here that time. Had that triggered this… absurd display of generosity? It had to have. Clark wasn’t sure what to think about that— and actually felt a pang of something like pity for Wayne, that he’d take that kind of common kindness as worthy of this. Clark hated to think what kind of people that meant Bruce Wayne faced in his normal life. “Golly,” he whispered, reading the letter again.


	16. Aliens...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aliens make Bruce leave Gotham, and Superman has some ideas about where Batman should be helping.

It was an alien invasion that finally made Bruce leave Gotham as Batman. Washington D.C. was under attack and the local police force and army were already being overwhelmed. Superman was there, as were the majority of America’s other costumed heroes; of which, there were a lot more since Superman’s public debut. Batman tried not to be too bitter at the thought. He saw, as he cleared the capitol’s airspace, a hulking titanium ship floating about a thousand feet over Capitol Hill. With a growl, he activated autopilot and glided towards the ground, assessing the situation as he went. Abruptly, a gust of wind blew him slightly off course as a voice said, “Batman! I’m so glad you’re here. I want to take you to where the army is. They’ll need help planning an attack.” Bruce turned to see Superman, looking somewhat ruffled for once.

“I don’t work like that,” he protested. In truth, he didn’t much like the current administration and he was, to his knowledge, still classified as a vigilante at best. It was dangerous. Superman gave him a look. Not knowing why he did, he sighed, and said, “Fine. Let’s go.” Superman offered him a quick smile before the world blurred and they were suddenly outside of a large khaki tent. 

A soldier saluted promptly upon seeing Superman and looked at Batman with wondering eyes. Bruce scowled, and looked straight ahead, cape flowing behind him dramatically. As they entered through the tent flap, it appeared they were interrupting an argument. One man— General Flanner— was shouting “We need a full-force assault. Not a retreat. We cannot let these aliens gain any more ground!” 

Another man, looking pompous with his big moustache and eyeglasses— a general, whose name Bruce did not know— said, “I am not saying we retreat, Flanner. I am saying we need more information about these invaders! It will do no good fighting them if we keep losing. We need to develop a better strategy first!” Somehow, neither of them seemed to notice the arrival of the world’s greatest hero, or the world’s greatest detective. Surprisingly, Bruce agreed with the second man. He had expected to be butting heads with everyone here. He made a note to get the name of the man. 

“He’s right,” Bruce growled out, “there is no way the army can win against these technologically superior aliens without a better strategy. Brute force isn’t going to work. We need to find a flaw in their defenses and then utilize our combined strengths there.” Superman for once said nothing, but stood at his side… almost as backup. This was odd, and made Bruce feel… appreciated. He set aside that notion for examination at another time. 

“Who in blue blazes is this, and what is Superman doing in my tent!” exclaimed the first man, flustered. Some of the underlings looked around, as if to say, ‘it wasn’t me.’ Clark jumped in, tone appeasing. 

“Sir,” he said, “this is a… friend of mine, from Gotham city.” The general squinted at Bruce, who drew himself up to his full height and looked right back. He generally didn’t like to play the ‘alpha-male intimidation’ game but recognized when it would be useful. 

“Uh, sir,” said a scrawny kid, saluting to the second general, who nodded, “that’s Bat—Batman, sir. He’s, uh, a hero in Gotham.” Bruce looked at the young man, and noted his East End accent. 

“Batman, eh?” asked the unnamed general. Bruce nodded. The man turned to Clark and asked, “What’s he do?” Superman turned to Bruce, clearly struggling. 

Bruce stepped forward, and said, “Detective. Tactician. Martial arts master and defender of Gotham. If you speak to the police commissioner, he can provide a full recommendation of my work. However, as I don’t believe we have much time available, you’ll have to do with a recommendation from the man of steel instead. Now can someone give me a summary of the resources we have available and what has already been tried? I’d like to get started.” 

……………… 

Bruce learned, to his dismay, that the army had tried a full-on frontal assault with tanks and missiles and had been utterly crushed. There were already growing casualties and the forces were being exhausted. Thankfully, with the help of a multitude of costumed heroes, the tide had been held back… barely. It wouldn’t be long until something shifted, one way or another. Another intern, this time a woman, brought forth a video screen and showed Bruce footage of the fighting so far. It was at this point that Superman excused himself to go rejoin the fight, as he was undoubtedly a big part of maintaining morale and in temporarily stopping the aliens. Bruce hardly noticed, engulfed in the footage. 

It almost looked as if there was one thing controlling all the alien pods… like a group of people under the Mad Hatter’s mind control. Yes— there! That coordination was not possible with so many ships. “They have a central command. None of these ships are being individually piloted. Their forces are letting the mother ship control the smaller ones, leaving the beings inside free to most efficiently fire off their weapons,” Batman stated, pointing at the screen, “see? There! That shows that they aren’t being manually flown.” 

The other members of the room slowly began to grasp what Batman was saying and even a few began nodding slowly. “I see,” said General Flanner reluctantly, “but why is that relevant to us?” 

Bruce was pleased that he was finally being listened to. “Because that’s how we’re going to capture one of their ships,” he explained. 

……………… 

The plan they ended up with was this: someone would shoot one of the ships down— NOT destroying it— and an ‘elite’ team would hack into its flight controls. As they’d seen other damaged ships being recalled, the one they shot down would be too. The team would enter the ship, take control of at least the central command, and let another wave of soldiers/allies in. As for who should go, Superman, and a few army honchos were unanimously nominated. As was Batman, to his great surprise. He watched the footage, scanning for a particular person. “There,” he said, pointing out the woman with the golden lasso, “she needs to go too.” 

The final ‘elite’ team ended up being Superman, Bruce, Wonder Woman, three members of the army, and a few Navy Seals. The secondary force would consist of the surviving members of the elite force plus more soldiers, the Green Lantern, and the Flash. Messengers were quickly dispatched to the waiting jeeps to alert the members of the various task forces. Batman gathered with the other members to await a downed ship, as the combined forces had been alerted that this was now their objective. Some of the other men— and a few women— eyed Batman nervously. A few puffed themselves up, clearly feeling that this stranger did not belong there. Bruce ignored it, there were more important things. 

Finally, Superman, and Wonder Woman arrived, and gave the word that a ship had been downed. A few army coders were sent in the armored vehicle with them. They silently sped to the ship and Batman was the first one out, his cape flowing behind him as he headed to the ship. Superman and Wonder Woman flanked him. The coders were last, leaving a gap between them and the rest of the team. Bruce spun to the soldiers and barked, “Protect our coders! We won’t be able to get onboard without them.” He got a few dirty looks, but soon the coders were enveloped in a wall of muscle. 

Superman gave him a look and even Wonder Woman— who he had been ignoring, despite his demanding her presence (he didn’t like her, but could admit needing her strength and skills)— seemed to reevaluate him somewhat. Soon they were all aboard the ship and Bruce and the two coders were hovering around the controls. Absently, Batman noted the lack of aliens on the ship. Perhaps he’d have to look into secret alien-testing government programs after he finished with this. They watched as the lights blinked.


	17. Battle (On the) Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce + company figure out how to get onto the alien ship, hoping to take out the power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know very little about coding, so forgive my b.s. hacking methods.

One of the coders, the one with the breaking-box, said, “I’ve got it!” Bruce hurried over. 

“Explain,” he said. 

Essentially, it was a more advance kind of computer language. Instead of 0 or 1, it was based off multiplication. Each multiple standing for it’s base. For example, four meant there were two ‘2’ commands. A ‘2’ corresponded to the letter S. These could build ‘sentences’ which in turn would command the ship. Everyone tensely waited as the coders did their thing. Suddenly the ship was airborne, and everyone staggered back a little as it listed to one side slightly. But, it seemed to have worked, as they were headed the direction other damaged ships had gone. Bruce took the opportunity to develop a strategy. 

“They may or may not be expecting us,” he began, “so it is vital that we work quickly. The tighter the timeline we have, the easier it will be. We need to minimize our footprint, which means various smaller teams. One will need to try and find the ship’s power source, the other the control room. Once we enter the hangar, we’ll need to drop out of the ship and split up. I have a few secure communications devices we can use… if needed. I’m not sure if they’ll be secure inside. Only use them in case of emergency. I suggest Superman, Wonder Woman, myself, and McCall (one of the coders) as one of the teams. Any objections?” Bruce paused, and heard nothing, so he continued, “right then. After— if— we can find either of the targets, we can assess which one we have a better chance overpowering; ideally that’d be the power, so we can unlock the doors manually when they’re down. But, if we can accomplish either task, we’ll need to regroup and defend ourselves until backup arrives. Clear?” 

There were various nods and murmurs, so Bruce said, “Ok. Our first task begins as soon as we’re through the hangar doors. Superman, Wonder Woman, you’ll airlift us and any equipment out of the shuttle and ideally into a storage closet or someplace out of the way while we get our bearings.” 

“Right,” said Clark, looking determined. Diana— Wonder Woman, nodded serenely. With this, Bruce hesitated a moment, not used to working so openly or in such a leadership position as Batman, or really, even as himself because of his ‘playboy’ act. 

“Good luck,” he said. 

……………… 

As they neared the alien mothership, everyone grew quiet, as if that would help them evade suspicion. Batman and the coders were hovered over the breaker box, watching as streams of code ran over the screen. Finally, their vehicle came to a stop outside of the doors. It sat there for several minutes. “What’s going on,” asked Superman, hovering anxiously a few inches behind the bat’s shoulder. Everyone looked to Bruce, who had to pull himself away from the codes. 

“I believe our systems are being scanned. We should prepare to get boarded, in case they get more suspicious,” Bruce said. At these words everyone looked more anxious. Bruce went back to his post by where the two army coders were looking at the screen. 

“What is the ship doing?” Bruce asked softly, not wanting to cause alarm in case the answer wasn’t a good one. 

“Err, we think it’s going through records on the mainframe. But it doesn’t seem to be reporting any errors or security breaches,” said one of the coders, looking a little nervous. Bruce didn’t know if it was due to the general situation or because of him. He nodded sharply. 

“Good. Let me know when something changes,” he said. Bruce strode over to the small viewing port and peered out at the looming ship. He could see a few other ships approaching from the ground— damaged like theirs was. A few cut in ‘line’ in front of theirs and hovered there. Finally, they began moving. Batman felt a presence behind him and turned. It was Wonder Woman. He repressed his base desire to get more space between them. 

“What should we do if we are boarded? I do not like our odds in a fight if we are trapped here. Should we not come out and use our strength?” she asked, clearly meaning her and Superman by ‘our strength.’ Bruce shook his head, a bit irritated. 

“No. We don’t know what kind of forces we’ll be facing. We need you two here as backup. It wouldn’t be good if either of you was captured. If we get boarded, I have weapons we can use. At worst, you can go on the offensive,” he said. Wonder Woman looked ready to argue, but it was Superman who objected next. 

“But if we get ambushed, that leaves everyone down there to deal with a hostage situation and wastes time,” he began. 

Bruce growled, interrupting “— look, Superman. You asked me to help you. Stick to beating up people and let me do the planning.” He glared at the two of them and looked around the small aircraft. A few of the soldiers met his gaze, but looked away. Both coders were too busy to have caught the exchange. 

A few minutes later, as they drew nearer the open hangar doors, one of the coders said, “I think we’ve got something!” Bruce quickly went to stand behind the woman. “Here,” she said, pointing to a line of code, “I think it says we’ve been cleared to land and have a ground inspection.” Bruce hummed, already thinking. 

“How fast can you clear everyone and our equipment out of here?” Batman asked Superman and Wonder Woman. The pair looked thoughtful. 

“It depends,” said Wonder Woman, “where would we land? I do not want to be split from the team and leave members of it vulnerable.” It was at this point that one of the soldiers made a throat-clearing sound. Bruce turned and looked at him. 

“I see what appears to be a maintenance closet of some kind over on that wall, Batman,” he said, pointing out the window. Bruce went over to the man’s side and followed his direction. Sure enough, there was a smallish door, opened to reveal a few parked vehicles and what appeared to be several giant machines, which were working on the grounded vehicles. Batman nodded decisively. 

“I think that will work,” he said, hoping he was right. He would have been less concerned if it was only himself that was at risk.


	18. Fighting Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bruce + company make their way across the alien ship, they encounter their first aliens (besides Clark). Uh oh...

What happened was that Clark ended up flying members of the team into the maintenance closet while Wonder Woman gathered equipment after Bruce had given them each one of his comm. earpieces. It was slow going, as they had to avoid platoons of alien soldiers and could only carry so much in one go. “Careful! Oncoming at 12 o’clock,” Bruce barked from his watch-point behind a large column. Wonder Woman and Superman dove behind a vehicle that was heading out. 

After a few minutes, the patrol moved out of sight Batman gave the all-clear. Finally, they were done. The team regrouped, and Bruce barely kept himself from sighing with frustration. If he had been alone, he could have been moving already and learning the layout of the ship. But, he supposed, there were some benefits in working with a team. For one, with Superman and Wonder Woman on his side, it meant he didn’t have to worry about being caught unawares as much. But it also meant going slower and dealing with other people’s questions and weaknesses. He realized people were turned to him, clearly looking for instructions. He forced himself to refocus. 

“I think— Superman, you have x-ray vision, correct? Can you scan through these walls and see where we are?” he asked. Superman nodded, and his eyes suddenly got a far-away look of someone who was daydreaming. But in his case, it meant he was x-raying things. After a few tense minutes, he blinked and seemed to return to the present. 

“I believe we’re in the bottom of the ship. It’s a little hard to tell, but the engine room is three or four floors above us, probably. But I couldn’t see through everything, and so I have no idea where the control room is,” he said. This intrigued Bruce, who opened his mouth to ask, but stopped when Wonder Woman interrupted, sending him a subtle look. 

“Then what do we do? I do not believe it wise for us to split up now, with one of our targets having an unknown location,” she said. Bruce did not like her abandoning his carefully thought-out plans, or her clearly siding with Superman and ‘interrupting’ him, but he agreed with her tactical assessment. 

“I think Wonder Woman is right. It makes no sense to divide ourselves if we don’t even know where we’re going. We should stick together,” Bruce said. Everyone else nodded, or seemed to agree, so they began planning for phase two. 

……………… 

Clark had to admit, he was impressed with how Bruce had stepped up. Superman was also impressed with how smart the other man was— sure, he knew Batman had a more brains than brawn approach to his fights, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different beasts. After he had rescued Batman, and received that astounding ‘thank you,’ Clark’s reporter instincts had given him a kick in the seat of the pants and he’d done a little digging on Bruce Wayne and the Batman. What he’d found hadn’t surprised him much, as Wayne had been written about enough times that the basic outline of his life story was well-known by pretty much everyone in at least Metropolis, Gotham, and Central city, if not the Eastern Seaborg. 

However, Batman was a much more obscure figure, not covered much by any major news publication even in Gotham until very recently. Clark found himself discovering much of his information on semi-sketchy internet chat boards. But overall, he was able to piece together a limited— but sound— knowledge of how the Batman, and Bruce Wayne, seemed to work. So, he’d been surprised by how willingly Bruce seemed to step up when Clark had pressured him. He’d been expecting more of a fight. But now he could see why— the man had a streak of selflessness that you wouldn’t catch unless you knew both sides of the coin; his philanthropy was often overlooked because of his bad behavior, which was, Clark was sure, a cover for his alter-ego, and the Bat’s actions were selfless, but couldn’t be linked to Bruce. That didn’t mean he was comfortable, as Clark had learned to read people’s ‘tells’ as any good journalist would. But he was doing it, and that was what mattered. Clark would back him up. 

But what really surprised him was that Bruce had asked for Diana to be a part of their team. He’d only heard it from her, after the two were on the way to meet with the others and learn the final plan. Then again, it was clearly a good tactical decision, and he’d seen Bruce set aside his own wants and needs in the name of duty before. Superman could also see that Batman was clearly uncomfortable around Wonder Woman still. The man was excellent at hiding it, but it was still clear to the man of steel. Clark frowned momentarily, and determined to speak with Diana about it after this was all over. Hopefully the two could work things out. 

Clark caught a look from Bruce and he tuned back into the conversation. “We need to get moving, but if we’re going to avoid being captured, we’re going to need to cause a distraction,” Batman said, turning to Superman, “can you find me an electrical outlet?” Clark scanned the walls and located one on the other side of the room. “I see it. What next?” he asked. 

Bruce pushed a button and his lens went green. “Destroy it. Then we move,” he said. Clark lasered the box and the whole hangar went dark. Bruce began moving forward silently, and the others followed, their own night vision goggles activated. 

……………… 

They made it to the end of the hall before encountering any trouble. Batman had inadvertently taken the lead, as he could see the best— besides Superman. He pulled a few bat-a-rangs and let them fly as a group of aliens approached. Superman and Wonder Woman made quick work of the rest of them. After that, Bruce decided that it might be a better bet to find a maintenance tunnel and use that. Superman scanned the halls in front of them and determined that the nearest one was about 1,000 feet down the hall. 

Just as they were reaching it— Bruce could see the small hatch— a whole platoon of alien soldiers appeared around the corner. Thinking quickly, Bruce released a tear gas pellet and two smoke bombs, and drew a few bat-a-rangs. “Go!” he barked. The soldiers, coders, and Wonder Woman ran for the hatch. Once Bruce saw Wonder Woman twist it open, biceps tweaking from the effort, he turned to Clark. “What are you doing? I said go! I’ll be fine, they need you more,” he hissed, throwing the first of his bat-a-rangs at the approaching enemy.


	19. No Man Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Superman are forced to fight off some aliens and get separated from the group. Bruce gets some bad news.

Clark leveled a look at him as he barreled into three aliens. “I’m not going anywhere until you are, Batman! And you’re wrong! They need you more— you’re the one who got us this far, I just followed your lead.” Bruce growled and muttered something under his breath, but didn’t object again. An alarm was blaring, and more and more aliens were heading towards them. Bruce reached towards a particular pouch on his belt, cursing. He’d hoped to not have to use this so soon. 

“Superman!” he bellowed over the increasing din, “I’m going to light a flare. Start heading for the maintenance shaft.” He barely had time to see Superman nod. But it was enough. Batman lit the flare and flung it as far into the onslaught as he could and threw a few more bat-a-rangs for good measure. The pair regrouped at the maintenance shaft, Superman boosting Batman up to the ladder. Clark reached down and sealed the door with his laser vision. Bruce started climbing, wincing at the movement of his left arm. He cursed in his head at the aliens— one had managed to cut a deep gash in his arm. It would be difficult to climb with. He gritted his teeth and ignored the feeling of slick blood flowing down his arm and the fiery burn that pulling himself up, rung over rung, caused. 

After what felt like hours of climbing in silence, Bruce’s hand slipped. He didn’t fall, but had to take a moment to shake out his hand. Batman pursed his lips and reached for the next rung when he was interrupted by Superman’s cry of, “You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say something?” Batman sighed and suppressed a snarl. 

“I’m fine,” he said patiently, “this won’t be a hinderance as soon as we’re done climbing. If you want to go faster, take the lead.” He couldn’t see Clark’s— Superman’s, he reminded himself, unsure of when his mental label of the man had changed— expression very well given how pitch black it was in the small tunnel and its cramped nature; the cape interfered. But he heard the other man sigh and suddenly he was floating almost level with Bruce, back pressed against the opposite wall to avoid contact. 

“I’m not worried about that! If you’re injured, you need to tell me— it’s important field knowledge. How about I just carry us the rest of the way? We don’t know how far up they climbed,” he said reasonably. Bruce ignored him and climbed another few rungs. But the fire in his arm made his stop again. Clark was still floating behind him, not saying anything. 

Huffing, Bruce snapped, “Fine.” Clark grabbed his wrists and began their flight upwards. It was at least another ten minutes before Clark stopped abruptly and Bruce banged into the wall. “Ow,” he protested sharply. 

“I’m so sorry,” Clark apologized. Bruce growled. 

“Just be more careful next time,” he admonished. 

Clark hummed, clearly preoccupied. “Aha! I found them,” he said. Batman grasped the ladder once more while Clark cut through the door, this one thankfully larger than the one they’d squeezed into, and with a rather too loud clang, they were free. Superman grabbed Batman in a rather undignified manner and the two men crossed the gap. As soon as solid ground was beneath him, Bruce scrambled out of Clark’s arms and stood. Unfortunately, the others were watching. They all looked a little worse for wear, but there appeared to be no injuries, except for Batman. 

“You made it,” Wonder Woman said neutrally, but with a small smile that acknowledged she’d been worried. Then her gaze zoomed in on Batman’s arm, where a layer of blood gleamed through a tear in his armor. “You’re injured,” she observed, locking eyes with Batman. 

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly, but firmly, “we need to keep moving.” To his extreme annoyance, a sudden feeling like liquid fire coursing through the arm made his hand twitch. Wonder Woman’s eyes narrowed. 

“We can spare a few minutes for me to dress that,” she said, tone leaving no room for argument. 

……………… 

The soldiers leaned against the wall and the coders sat. Clark was hovered a few inches off the ground, anxiously keeping watch. Wonder Woman made Bruce sit and she crouched by his side with the small first aid kit open. She’d made him take off the arm panel on the suit, so now his naked arm gleamed in stark contrast to the rest of him. She’d cleaned out his arm with an alcohol-covered swab but frowned at how it bubbled. Before he could object, or say anything, she took a fresh cotton ball and swabbed his wound. She put her tongue out and pressed the tip of it to the cotton ball. Her eyes widened a little and Bruce frowned. “What?” he asked. 

“It’s poison. I don’t think enough to kill, but it’ll weaken you,” she said, going about business as usual. Bruce frowned. This was why he liked to stick to Gotham, he acknowledged. 

After she was done, he stood and said lowly, hoping Clark was too busy ‘keeping watch’ to eavesdrop, “This stays between us. I’ve been poisoned before, so I’ll be careful.” Surprisingly, Wonder Woman nodded. 

“Unless you need more medical attention,” she said. 

……………… 

They kept moving, Clark taking the lead this time, as he was the only one who could see where they were supposed to be going. Occasionally he needed to pause to re x-ray where they were supposed to be heading. But they met very few aliens. Probably most of them are out fighting, Bruce pondered doubtfully. He wasn’t unhappy about it, but he wasn’t optimistic either. He also noticed that Wonder Woman had chosen to take up the rear… near Batman. He could also have sworn that she occasionally sent glances his way, as if checking that the poison hadn’t overwhelmed him yet. Finally, they reached the corridor near the power room. Bruce had Clark scan a seemingly empty room to confirm it and then pulled out his lockpick. A few moments later, they were in. Bruce spotted a whiteboard and had Clark draw a diagram of the room. 

It appeared to have three ‘decks’ with each containing a group of guards and service-aliens. The power source appeared to be a kind of battery, and was at the lowest, and most heavily guarded, deck. Batman took a moment to learn the layout and plan. This involved rummaging through the belt and taking stock of things. Most importantly, he had three cryo-bombs— designed to fight the likes of Firefly— which could be used to destroy machinery. He had a decent number of teargas pellets left and a low number of smoke bombs, and only two flares left. He went back to staring at the board. Any way they went about it, there was only one, small access point. Unless they were to use one of the cryo-bombs to widen it, create chaos… but Batman didn’t like going in unprepared and he knew that those bombs would be the quickest and most efficient way to destroy machinery here. He palmed a cryo-bomb, thinking. 

“Err, Batman? I hate to rush you, but I don’t think this room is going to be empty forever,” Superman reminded. Bruce sighed. 

“Point taken. Unfortunately, I used a lot of supplies getting here, so we’ll have to make do— unless any of you have weapons I don’t know about... ok. We only have one access point, so we’ll have to come in all at once, and quickly, so they don’t have time to prepare. I have three cryo-bombs— I use them against a villain whose name is Firefly; he’s an arsonist— my point being that these will be capable of destroying any machinery they need to. Essentially, we can bring down the ship’s power with these. But, as I said, there are only three. It would be quicker if we split into smaller teams, but also riskier. Does anyone have ideas?” Batman summarized. 

Superman stepped forward, and stated, “I have a solution to your cold problem. I have freeze breath— I don’t know how cold it is compared to whatever’s in you bombs, but it freezes things, so I’m assuming it will be cold enough to destroy computers and such.” Everyone was quiet a moment, and even Batman seemed to have to reboot himself after the announcement. 

“Care to demonstrate?” he asked. Clark stepped forward and focused on the table ahead of them. An icy blast suddenly filled the room and the table was abruptly covered in a thick coating of ice. Bruce ran a gloved hand over it, feeling the chill still. He nodded. 

“This should work. So, we have my three bombs plus Superman’s… freeze breath,” Batman summarized. 

This time it was one of the navy seals who stepped forward. “This is all well and good, Batman. But you heroes are forgetting something— we’ve still got people down there waiting on our signal to come up and help out. Somebody’s got to stay here, and that actually means at least two somebodies, so the message gets out. What are you going to do about that?” Bruce nodded, conceding the point. 

Batman turned to face the two coders and asked bluntly, “How helpful will you be under fire? If not, you can stay here.” 

The woman looked at him boldly and said, “I have no problem… but I don’t know how well I’ll be able to keep up.” The other muttered a similar sentiment. There was a pause. 

“Any volunteers?” Batman asked finally. Nobody answered. Bruce opened his mouth to suggest otherwise but another of the soldiers had other ideas. 

“You’re injured. Why don’t you stay here? You’d be good enough to guard them, right Batman,” with a firm tone that clearly didn’t encourage argument. 

“I would,” Bruce said, “except for the fact that with our coders here, I highly doubt anyone else is technologically proficient enough to know what needs to be disabled and how to do it manually if needed— if I’m wrong, please enlighten me.” 

“I think we all know how to spot the stuff that needs to be destroyed, Batman. I also happen to know that at least a few of us passed the computer defense courses the U.S. army offered,” said another soldier. Bruce scowled and turned to face the soldier. 

“I’m not trying to dismiss your skills— I am sure you are very proficient, and would be more than able to handle this usually. But, can you disarm a nerve gas bomb in under two minutes while also disabling a computer? I’ve done that. So, I believe it would be unwise for me to stay here,” he said. Again, there was silence in the room for a moment and Bruce could practically feel Clark’s stare upon his back… and surprisingly, Wonder Woman’s too. 

“I volunteer,” said Wonder Woman. Batman wasn’t happy about losing one of their strongest hitters, but at the same time, it was important that the messengers were safe, and they’d wasted enough time as it was. 

“Fine,” he said, “let’s move out. Superman and myself will work on the lower levels. Your team will work on the upper ones.” With this, he handed two of his cryo-bombs to the soldiers and instructed, “See that small tab? Pull that and give it to the count of three. Just like with a grenade, you’ll want to get clear— but there’s less shrapnel with this. It’s the cold blast you need to worry about. Clear?” The soldiers nodded so Bruce said, “let’s move.” 

Wonder Woman and the two coders had stationed themselves behind a table in a corner of the room that was less visible from the door. “Good luck. May the gods bless you,” she said, nodding at Batman and Superman.


	20. Going Out with a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce + company, minus Wonder Woman and the coders, storm the engine room. But when something happens to Superman, what will Batman do?

As soon as they were in the hall, Clark disappeared in front of the group and Bruce felt an immediate chill. A few aliens shouted at them and tried to draw weapons, but the soldiers opened fire, causing the aliens to retreat. Bruce tried to ignore the pang of unease the gunfire caused. Soon they had rejoined Superman, who had iced over the whole wall. Bruce retrieved a small stick of plastique from his belt and placed the fuse. “As soon as I light this, we’ll want to move,” he warned. 

“Is that plastique?” asked one of the soldiers, sounding half-impressed, half-scared. 

“Yes— move!” Bruce said, turning away from the lit charge. As predicted, the wall shattered from the pressure of the freeze, and the following explosion. Soon after the explosion, aliens came rushing out of the hole. Superman swooped around the corner and knocked the lot unconscious. Batman and the soldiers rushed into the room and Superman hurried to hover by Bruce’s side. 

When the soldiers were clear, Bruce released three smoke bombs and gestured to the man of steel to head for the small elevator. Bruce leapt into the air and initiated glide mode, tossing a few teargas pellets downwards as he descended. Clark swept around melting weapons and disabling opponents. Superman broke off a large pipe and wrapped the aliens in it and knocked the others unconscious. Thudding to the ground, Bruce took a moment to look around and spotted the batteries in a corner, along with a kind of computer, behind a door. He started moving in that direction but was grabbed by Clark. 

“There’s a sniper around that corner! Let me go first,” he said. Bruce nodded and turned to tie up a few more aliens. A sudden cry of pain had him rushing to Superman’s location. The man was lying on the floor, a bullet wound in his shoulder and a growing wet patch of blood leaking out. Bruce ran to his side and knelt down. 

“Superman, can you hear me?” he barked. The other man sat up weakly and Bruce shoved him back down with a snarl. 

“Kr-kryptonite,” Clark wheezed. He lifted a hand and said, “bullet’s still in there.” Then he slumped to the ground. 

Bruce fumbled with the comm. in Clark’s ear and barked “Wonder Woman! We need backup. Superman’s down. Repeat, back up needed. Call in the second team." Bruce shut the door and shot his grappling line through the doorknob. Then he quickly procured a pair of handcuffs and cuffed the unconscious sniper to a railing. He heaved Clark up in a fireman’s carry, staggering slightly at the pain that triggered in his injured arm, and dragged the grappling gun behind him until he reached a suitable pipe to wind it through. Then Batman continued to the computer bank, and lay Clark down, who only stirred and groaned. 

His heart was pounding, and he recognized the symptoms of panic. Bruce forced himself to take deep breaths and think. What had Clark said? The substance that had caused his injury was Kryptonite— whatever that was. But, he had also said the bullet was still in him? Bruce’s first objective was to stop the bleeding, so he could destroy the computers. But he also knew that no ordinary bullet would bother the man of steel, so this bullet must be made out of this ‘Kryptonite.’ That meant Bruce would have to get the bullet out of Clark. For some reason that made him nearly gag. It must have been the wrongness of seeing an invulnerable person like Superman so humbled. 

There was a sudden ‘huhh huhhh huhhh’ sound— Bruce realized it was his own rapid breathing. He tried to ignore it, and the way his hands shook slightly as he withdrew his small knife and tweezer from the belt. Carefully, he cut open Superman’s uniform and fumbled with his gloves— he’d need his sense of touch for this. Carefully, he pulled apart the sides of the wound and tentatively stuck the tweezers in. At this, Clark bucked, and his eyes flew open. “I— I need you to stay still, Super— Clark,” Batman said shakily. He straddled the other man’s waist to get some stability. He soon felt the thing inside Clark and yanked. Shaking, he pulled out the bullet and tucked it into a pouch on his belt, ignoring the smear of blood on his hands— and now his belt. He saw Clark had passed out again, but seemed to be no longer bleeding. 

Batman took a moment to assess the situation, noting grimly that Wonder Woman had not replied to his message. As Superman seemed to be stable, and no one had attacked them— yet— Bruce decided to return his focus to the task at hand. He noticed his hands were shaking again and his head felt a little fuzzy. He shook this off as a minor stress-related reaction to dealing with Clark’s injury. Right, the computers. He walked towards them and tried to decipher the labels on the monitors. From what he could tell, the ones he wanted were to the left. So, he approached those and began tearing apart the controls. After, he placed the cryo-bomb— his only one— in the mess of wires and retreated, dragging Clark behind him. The explosion rocked the room and the last thing Bruce felt before passing out was a wave of immense cold.


	21. Leaving the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonder Woman is a badass and rescues the boys. The day is saved... but Batman still has poison in his veins, and there's the press to deal with.

“Batman!” Somebody was calling his name. It also felt like there was an earthquake, for some reason. “BATMAN!” there it was again. Bruce tried to pay attention to how long the tremors lasted, so he could calculate the strength of the quake. But it went on and on and on… something wasn’t right. With a sudden gasp, Bruce came too. Clark had slapped him. With a groan, Batman sat up, trying to ignore how fuzzy his head was still. 

“Get off, m’fine,” he said, waving a hand at Clark, who looked remarkably better than he had before. The man chuckled weakly, also groaning a little as he scooted a few inches away from the bat. 

“Had to… get even. Now we’ve both saved… the other,” Superman said, chuckling wheezily. Bruce scowled and sat up more, wincing. 

“That’s great, Clark. Now how the hell do we get out of here?” Bruce growled. 

Superman turned to stare at Bruce, eyes wide. “You called me Clark,” he said. Bruce’s heart thudded, and he froze. It was at that moment that the barricaded door burst inwards in a shower of splinters. Like an avenging angel— which she very well could be— Wonder Woman appeared in the hole. She had a cut on one cheek and was grimy and sweaty, but Bruce thought she looked in her element. 

“Ah, so this is where you two disappeared to. Which one of you needs medical aid first?” she asked, sounding slightly amused, although her eyes were not. Bruce and Clark each pointed at the other. She sighed, shaking her head slightly. Wobbly, Batman rose to his feet. 

“I think the man of steel has priority in this case. I had to take a bullet out of him not even an hour ago,” Batman growled, shooting a glare at the still grounded alien. Superman floated to his feet and brushed some of the dirt off his face with a hand. 

“That’s not quite fair, Batman. I just had to slap you awake because you got caught in the blast of the cryo-bomb!” Superman said. Bruce turned to respond but a wave of dizziness made him black out for a moment. He remembered then that he may be slightly poisoned. 

“I think if we can argue like this, we don’t need immediate medical attention. Now, Wonder Woman, why don’t you catch us up?” Bruce said. 

……………… 

It turned out that of the three teams, only two were successful in detonating their bombs. The third group heroically chose to sacrifice themselves and gave the second group the opportunity to detonate their bomb. Together with Batman’s bomb, the combined forces brought down the ship’s power. Wonder Woman waited until the second after the blackout happened and then rushed into action, sword blazing, to rescue her companions. 

A few moments later, the cavalry had arrived. Green Lantern and the Flash’s help proved invaluable, as they were able to defeat much of the remaining alien forces and once the ship was down, many of the smaller gunships had lost power as well, letting the ground forces finally turn the tide. Bruce heard this through slightly ringing ears, as the poison was now making up for lost time. He still didn’t think it was a lethal dosage, but he didn’t want to test this diagnosis. 

The three heroes were allowed to depart the scene, although they were expected down in the army’s central tent to debrief the generals. Once in the shuttle, Bruce sat with a small sigh— he didn’t remember ever feeling this tired after a fight, except for maybe after one especially large Arkham breakout. As the ship descended, Batman took the opportunity to look out the window. His stomach dropped a little at the sudden thought I just fought an alien invasion. Never had he ever expected that. Sure, he was used to weird— Gotham wouldn’t be Gotham without weird— but this was something straight out of a science fiction novel. And he was just a mortal man with a lot of money and issues. It made him feel both humbled and extremely tired. He chuckled under his breath slightly and shook his head. 

Finally, the ship landed and the moment the door opened Bruce saw almost nothing but the flashes of cameras. He resisted the urge to hold up a hand and block it. Errantly, he thought, there goes my status as an urban legend. Superman boldly took the first step out, followed by Batman and rounded out by Wonder Woman. Then came the questions— most were directed at Batman, as he was relatively unknown, which was always exciting to the media. 

“Batman! What was your role up there?” 

“Dark Knight, why did you come out of Gotham?” 

“Are you really a world hero or was this a one-time thing?” 

“Who are you and what are your motivations— explain for our readers!” 

Batman walked firmly ahead and ignored the questions. As no one could see where he was looking unless he turned his head, Bruce side-eyed Clark and Wonder Woman to see how they were doing. Superman floated through the air, looking tired, but with a smile on his face. Wonder Woman looked more neutral— strong yet approachable. Bruce repressed the urge to scowl, reminding himself that now the world was watching. He also repressed another wave of dizziness, noting that he’d have to make an excuse to escape D.C. soon. 

……………… 

The debriefing took an hour— the army wanted to ask more questions, but Batman insisted that he needed to get back to his city to check up on it in the aftermath of the chaotic invasion and that he would send his report to the generals soon. Nobody seemed to question the fact that while Batman was not a sanctioned member of the U.S. government or of the army itself he seemed to have access to the generals’ emails. Superman and Wonder Woman similarly begged off and followed Batman out of the tent to face the media circus. 

Only this time it was not just the first-responder cameramen, but actual news channels with their vans and videography teams. Again, Batman ignored the cameras, but he saw Superman answering a few questions, and even Wonder Woman seemed to respond to one or two. “Why did you come out of Gotham?” asked a young reporter— Bruce was fairly confident she’d been running after him since the ship had landed. As he was very tired, and also sick of being hounded by reporters, he answered with the first thing that came out of his head, forgetting that he wasn’t answering questions. 

He said, “To help. That’s what I do.” Then he sped up and the reporter seemed to have the good sense to realize that he wasn’t going to say anything else and let him be. After a while longer of walking, Bruce blinked, as if coming out of a fog and realized the media circus had fallen behind and it was only him. From a long way away, he seemed to remember putting his plane on autopilot and recalled it, hoping it had survived the fight. 

Miraculously, the signal chirped in acknowledgement of his command and he soon heard the smooth, low whine of his jet. An abrupt gust of wind announced Superman’s arrival. He also heard Wonder Woman’s boots. He looked up at his plane, willing it to land faster so he could go home. Never had bed— and an antidote to poison— sounded so appealing. “What’re you doing here?” he asked the quickly darkening lawn in front of him. 

“You didn’t think you could just disappear on us, did you?” Clark asked, somehow managing to sound amused and concerned. Bruce set it aside as something the other man could just do. 

“I agree. After what we have faced tonight… together… I believe some discussion is needed,” said Wonder Woman. 

“Invite both of yourselves over, why don’t you?” Bruce grumbled, and only realized what he’d said afterwards. Great, now they were expecting to see the cave. 

“REALLY! Can we?” Superman asked, grinning like a schoolboy. Batman supposed it’d be bad manners to deny him now, and honestly, he was too tired to argue anyway. 

“Yes,” he said, sighing. Wonder Woman offered a rare smile, and Bruce felt like he’d done the right thing.


	22. Start of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce brings Superman and Wonder Woman back to the cave, and the manor to discuss the future. Alfred helps patch him up. Jim Gordon makes an appearance too.

After programming the autopilot, and controlling the plane out of D.C. airspace— in case anyone had the bright idea to follow them, Bruce ripped off the cowl with a sigh and rubbed his face with his ungloved hands. “How are you doing?” asked a feminine voice, startling him. Bruce recovered quickly. 

“I’m fine— the computers will have an antidote soon, hopefully, when we arrive, and I should be ok in the meantime; this isn’t a fatal dose,” he responded. His eyes felt gritty and his mouth tasted like blood and smoke. Wonder Woman came to stand at the side of his chair and leaned over. He could smell the faint spicy scent of her and saw a strand of her hair dangling over the armrest. 

“Come back into the very comfortable cabin with us. You have nothing else to do here,” she said neutrally. But her grip on his arm was firm. 

“Mm,” he said, rising tiredly from his seat. The pair walked slowly back through the passage to the small, but comfortable, cabin. Superman was sitting in one of the three seats, staring out at the passing night sky, and alternately staring at the interior of the cabin. He smiled when Diana and Bruce reappeared. Bruce nodded at him and sank into a seat. Immediately, he took off the belt, half listening to Wonder Woman and Superman’s conversation, and began cataloguing what remained. Before long, however, he realized he had been counting smoke bomb pellets over and over again for the past few minutes. With a frustrated sigh, he replaced them in the belt and leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. He’d give himself a break for a minute, then get back to work. 

……………… 

Clark and Diana’s conversation trailed off as they heard the rumbling breathing emanating from the third seat. They both glanced over and saw Batman, cowl down, completely zonked out. Clark listened to the thu-thump of his heart anxiously, but was relieved to hear it still beating steadily. Softly, Diana came and sat against the wall by Clark’s chair. “We did good, working together,” she murmured. Superman nodded. 

“We did,” he agreed. A particularly loud sigh from Bruce made them both look up protectively. But he merely moved his head and resumed his steady breathing. Diana stood, stretching, and resumed her seat. Clark stared out the window, pondering the future. 

……………… 

Once the plane had announced they’d cleared Gotham airspace, Superman woke Bruce up to pilot. Neither he nor Wonder Woman knew the location of the Batcave and Clark figured that Bruce would want to be in charge of their descent. The man seemed to come back from distant place and looked as far from his billionaire Brucie image as Clark could imagine. With a grunt, he rose from his seat and somewhat stiffly, walked into the cockpit. A few minutes later, Gotham proper came into view— a glow of lights and high, neo-gothic skyscrapers clashing with the neutral, dark sky. 

Soon they had passed over downtown and were once again mostly in the dark. Then the plane began its final descent and a huge pair of hangar doors— in a field, Clark noted— opened. The plane touched down smoothly, and Batman reappeared, cowl still down. The door opened, and Bruce said, “Welcome to the Batcave.” The three heroes exited the plane, and Bruce pressed a few buttons and the gangway retreated. “Make yourselves at home,” Batman said, disappearing into the darkness before either Clark or Diana could say anything. 

……………… 

Bruce left his…coworkers? Teammates? behind, even though he hated to let anyone have free-range in the cave. But he had work to do. He approached the lab and withdrew the equipment he needed— and drew some blood. Then he put it into the computer to be analyzed and sunk into the chair with a sigh. Only the clearing of a throat alerted him the presence behind him. 

“I assume the man and the woman wandering around the Batcave are here on invitation, Master Bruce?” asked Alfred. 

“Yes, Alfred,” said Bruce with a small smile, “they’re Superman and Wonder Woman. I’ve brought them here upon their request for a meeting after the… battle.” Alfred nodded, observing his foster-son and the computer activity with a keen eye. 

“And the results of said battle, sir?” he asked. 

Bruce sighed, and replied, “We won— which you already knew. I’m afraid though, old friend, that the Batman is an urban legend no more. We’ll see what the morning news has to say.” 

“I am afraid it is sooner than that, Master Bruce. But, rest assured, it is mostly positive— not that you are to be concerning yourself with that now. I believe you need an examination, and this antidote needs making. As for your… friends, do you happen to know if they enjoy omelets or sandwiches more?” asked Alfred. 

……………… 

After his thorough physical, and bandaging, Clark and Diana were recalled from where they had been exploring with some delight. Clark was equally parts surprised and pleased at the discovery that Bruce had a giant dinosaur displayed in his cave and Diana was rather partial to the giant penny. They were introduced to Alfred Pennyworth, whom both could tell Bruce held in highest esteem by the tone of his voice. “Charmed, Master Superman, Miss Wonder,” he said, shaking their hands firmly. The three were fed omelets until Clark felt he would burst and then the computer beeped. 

“That would be the antidote, Master Bruce. I shall fetch it immediately,” said Alfred, sharing a look with his… employer? Bruce nodded, but he didn’t look happy. Clark took a step back. 

“Antidote?” he asked sharply, looking at Bruce. Tiredly, the man spun his seat to face Clark better. “I received a mild dose of poison during the battle— I suspect it entered my system through the gash on my arm,” he explained calmly. Superman frowned, spinning to confront Diana. 

“Did you know about this?” he asked, sounding like he was building up for a rant. 

“Yes,” she said calmly, as usual, “I was the one who informed him his wound was poisoned. It would have done no good for him to withdraw from battle, Superman. We needed him; the needs of the many were more important than the potential risk, we both agreed. And I was watching him closely.” With this, she shot a disapproving look at Bruce, who grumbled. 

“But…” said Clark, mind spinning. He sighed, “fine. Forget I said anything. But let the record stand— next time I would like to know.” 

“What do you mean, ‘next time,’ Clark? I think once was enough,” Bruce deadpanned. Superman groaned. 

Alfred returned with the antidote and Bruce injected it, not even wincing as the rather large needle entered his vein. Then he stood, with a yawn, and said, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m heading up. You’re welcome to a guest bedroom if you want to stay. Alfred will show you where to go.” With that, the bat once again disappeared. 

……………… 

Bruce staggered up the stairs from the cave after he removed the top half of the suit and the armor from the bottom in the ‘locker room.’ Then he debated for several long seconds whether a shower was worth the effort. But he felt so disgusting that he decided, yes, it was worth the effort. Now he stumbled out, yawning so widely that his eyes watered. Carelessly, he threw the towel on the tiled floor after drying off and shrugged on a fresh pair of boxers. Then he slipped into bed and was asleep. 

……………… 

Clark and Diana followed Alfred up the stairs silently, trying not to gawk at the luxuries that went by as they went farther and farther into Wayne Manor. Alfred was polite, but thankfully brief, in his explanations of where things were. Then he left them to their own devices. Clark immediately stripped and practically dove head-first into the shower, sighing at how big it was. Diana behaved similarly in her own room. As he stepped into the main room, Clark saw a full outfit, with a robe and slippers waiting on his bed. He changed before soaping up his uniform and boxers and putting them in the sink to come cleaner. Then, almost crying in relief, he dove onto the bed and snuggled up, closing his eyes. 

……………… 

The next afternoon, Diana was the first to reawaken. She opened her eyes, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness. She stretched, luxuriating in the soft warmth and comfort of her massive bed. Wonder Woman made a note to spend her next paycheck (or two) on such a bed. Then she rose, marveling that Alfred had somehow managed to procure clothes— including undergarments— for her. She changed, feeling much better and went down the hall following half-remembered instructions from the night before. 

Clark woke next and after he’d changed, went down to where he heard the hearty laugh of Diana. He saw her talking to Alfred, the butler smiling with a gleam to his eye. Clark saw a stack of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee worthy of his own mother’s cooking waiting. He also saw the newspaper and then observed the television displaying a rather good photo of him, Diana, and Bruce. He read the news ticker as he ate. About an hour later, Bruce joined them, wrapped in a robe, barefooted. He looked possibly hungover— Clark would have said that was what it was except he knew better now, and he wondered if half the times Brucie Wayne had appeared ‘hung over’ had actually just meant Bruce was tired. The other man yawned, and squinted a little at the bright light streaming through the living room. He smoothed down his hair a little and sat between Clark and Diana at the counter and poured himself a large, black cup of coffee before even reaching for his plate. 

“Morning,” said Clark. 

Bruce grunted, picking up the newspaper. “Thanks, Alfred…” he said distractedly, trailing off as he read the headline under the enormous photo on the front page; it was similar to the one Clark had seen on the television, except this one was possibly more dramatic. The ship had literally just landed, and he was frozen, one foot out of the door, face caught between expressions, so he looked commanding and confident. Diana stood slightly behind him, looking serious, hair draped over one shoulder, arms flexed slightly, showing off her fitness. Behind them was Bruce, typical scowl absent— instead his mouth was just slightly south of neutral. It made him look serious and thoughtful. The photographer had caught him as he was turning, so his cape swirled out behind him, before disappearing into the relatively dark background of the ship. 

The headline read, “New Future of Crimefighting? Superman, Wonder Woman and… Batman Save the Day.” The caption read, “a shot of the three heroes as they descend from the alien ship, the site of the most important fighting. Batman, right, a previously obscure hero, alleged to work in Gotham, NJ, has stated his motivation for coming to the capitol to fight was, “To help. That’s what I do.” Bruce took another sip of his coffee before turning the page, muttering about anonymity and how it’d be more difficult to operate now. Clark and Diana’s eyes met over Bruce’s head, both seeing the same kind of fond exasperation reflected on the other’s face. 

“Well, it’s not the worst way to be introduced to the world, Bruce. I mean… wouldn’t you rather have this than some kind of… speculation and overblown frenzy by the tabloids. Now you have a platform to shape your image,” Clark said knowingly. Bruce set down the paper, which Diana snatched, turning back to the front page to read from the beginning. 

“Yes, I would rather be able to ‘shape my image,’ except Batman isn’t supposed to have an image. I’m not supposed to be as visible as you are! It counteracts the fearful aura surrounding Batman— criminals are cowardly and superstitious, Kent. The more rumors there are out there about what I can do, and might be able to do, the easier my job is. I don’t want a bunch of reporters interfering in my work, and the more the publics’ attention is on me, the more I have to answer to them. Trust me, I already know what that’s like. It’s why I wanted the opposite for my alter-ego,” Bruce said, frustrated. Diana looked up from the paper. 

“You do have some valid points. However, I think you underestimate the importance of public support, Batman. It will get you more cooperation from public officials, for one. I also think it will inspire your own citizens… I would suggest you wait before making a judgement,” she said. Bruce frowned. 

“That may work in your city, Wonder Woman, but Gotham’s different. The kinds of criminals I face… well the Joker certainly won’t be more scared of me because of this. He’ll probably plan something more elaborate, knowing he could get national attention,” Bruce argued, standing with his dishes in one hand. He put them in the sink before heading out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” asked Clark. 

“Batcave. Feel free to join me,” Bruce said, disappearing. 

……………… 

Alfred showed them the entrance behind an old grandfather clock. It opened after he wound the clock’s hands to a certain time. Clark hardly paid attention, instead caught up in the huge painting of a young Bruce Wayne and his parents. A twinge went through Clark at that. He knew Bruce’s story, but was again reminded of it, looking at the painting. Alfred retreated and left them alone. Diana turned back to where Clark was still standing and looked at where he was. 

“Bruce’s parents,” Clark elaborated, although he was sure Diana had done her own research. 

“Yes. I know,” she said. The two walked down to the cave silently. 

……………… 

They found Bruce already sitting at his enormous computer, typing rapidly into a document. He minimized it as they rounded the corner down the stairs. “Grab a seat— there are some chairs over in the lab,” Bruce said, pointing. He turned back to the document and resumed typing. When Clark and Diana had grabbed seats, and placed them next to Batman’s, he pressed ‘save’ and exited the document. “So,” he said, fixing a look at the pair of them, “what was it exactly you wanted to discuss?” 

……………… 

“Well,” said Clark, feeling slightly unnerved at having the bat’s full, undivided attention directed at him, “I think we worked well together. I was thinking we should— at a minimum— create some kind of… network, in case anything on this scale happens again, or if any one of us needs help. A sort of league. Possibly we could include others too.” At this Diana nodded and Bruce gestured, continue. 

“It would help all of us be able to respond more quickly to global threats. I for one would appreciate the tactical help because it’d allow me to get more done. Diana, I think this could help establish you more in the hero community, as you’ve been laying low since you got here. Batman, this would give you more ‘credibility,’” Clark said. 

Diana nodded, before saying, “I think this is a good idea. We would have to work out the details, but it sounds like a fine beginning, Clark.” Superman glanced at Bruce, who had his hands steepled under his chin, and looked like he was thinking things through. Clark tried not to hold his breath. 

“I think… it’s an idea not completely without merits, though I would like to think through the… implications of such a ‘league’ before we act at all. However, I do have a solution for the immediate problem of us three being able to stay in contact,” he said, spinning his chair to type furiously at the computer. A screen popped up with different names on it, along with different frequencies. “This is, for lack of a better name, ‘Bat Wave.’ It’s a heavily encrypted private channel, the one Alfred and I use in the field. I’m also developing a private internet system. Obviously it would have to be reworked, but I can give you each access, and a device to use it on. It goes without saying that you two will keep this between us and follow my security protocols,” Batman said, spinning to face them, face neutral. But Clark could hear how his heart beat nervously. This was a huge act of trust for him. 

“Of course, Bruce!” Clark said, smiling widely. He was genuinely excited to begin working with Batman and hoped he could get him onboard with creating a kind of hero’s network. 

“Certainly, Batman,” Wonder Woman said simply. 

“Good,” said Bruce, rising from his seat “then come with me and I’ll show you how to use it and I’ll give you devices for it.” 

……………… 

An hour later, Clark was certain that he had to get Batman to agree to a network— the man would be vital to younger (and even established) heroes’ abilities to work in the field technically and tactically. He was a very good teacher, explaining clearly and patiently the ‘Bat Wave’ system. He was also absurdly generous, as a ‘device’ to use ‘Bat Wave’ on turned out to be a sleek laptop for each Clark and Diana. Clark had been picturing something like a small, hand-held radio. He almost wanted to refuse, out of a sense of how absurd this was. But he didn’t because it would be an affront to Bruce’s immense display of trust. Eventually, it came time for them to leave. Clark gathered his things under one arm, being careful to tuck the laptop securely under his empty arm, and took off, after a quick wave to Bruce and Diana. He didn’t see Diana take off and hoped it was a sign the two would take the time to figure things out. 

……………… 

Bruce and Diana watched Clark take off from the entryway to the Manor, both silent. Diana waved back at Clark until he had turned away. She turned to look out the sky, back to Bruce. He remained where he was. There was silence between them. Then Wonder Woman turned, and said, “I believe I owe you an apology, Batman. I misjudged you. I was arrogant, and acted rashly. I would not blame you for holding it against me, although I hope you will be the bigger person among us and forgive me.” Bruce looked a little surprised at her words and there was a beat of silence before he responded. 

“I accept. Although our… disagreement was partly my fault— and you made me see the way I have been going about handling my… reputation is no longer adequate. It’s part of the reason I agreed to set up a network with you and Superman,” he said neutrally. Wonder Woman smiled. 

“Thank you, Batman. Now, I have one more imposition to place upon you before I depart. I do not believe we ever formally introduced ourselves,” Diana said, turning so she was in front of Batman. He smiled, amusement sparking in his eyes. 

“If you think it necessary,” he said, chuckling softly. 

Diana extended her hand, and said seriously, “I am Diana Prince— or simply Diana— princess of Themiscyra, also known as Wonder Woman. It is pleasant to finally make your acquaintance. Colleagues?” 

Bruce’s lips curved up. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Diana. You may call me Bruce. I’m the ‘prince’ of Gotham, but you know me as Batman. I would be glad to be your colleague.” He took her hand in a firm grasp and they shook. 

Inwardly, Diana breathed a huge sigh of relief. She had not felt right leaving her previous actions unanswered. Now she felt light as a feather for resolving this thing between them. “Well, I believe it is time to be leaving. I will hopefully see you sometime before the next disaster,” she said in a not-quite a questioning manner. 

“No promises with my schedule, but I can try,” Bruce said. Diana nodded, recognizing a compromise when she saw one. She lifted off the ground. 

“Take care of yourself, Bruce,” she said, flying away. 

……………… 

Bruce talked with Alfred and slept for most of the rest of the day. He awoke to Selina’s weight pressed against his side. He smiled before closing his eyes again, for once content to let his body rest. He awoke for good at 6 p.m. Selina was still there, and she smiled down at him from over her book. Bruce blinked and mumbled, “What time is it?” She answered, and he sat up stretching. He groaned slightly at all the creaks and pops emanating from his body, and from the lingering soreness. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, dropping a soft kiss on Selina’s forehead. He felt much better after a shower and a change of clothes. He reentered his bedroom to see Selina sitting up on the bed, clearly waiting for him. 

“So,” she said, fixing him with an intense gaze, “you going to tell me what happened?” 

……………… 

Over dinner, Bruce told Selina— and Alfred— what had transpired on the ship and during the fight. Selina grabbed the newspaper, which Alfred had neglected to toss out. Bruce suspected he wanted to have it framed and put up in the Batcave. Selina studied the photo on the front for a moment and commented, “This is a nice shot… will you be working with these two more?” 

Bruce said, “Possibly. They’re good people… Superman wants to form a kind of league for heroes, but I’m not so sure how I feel about that. I don’t want to lose focus on Gotham. But nothing concrete has been decided upon yet.” 

“What about the woman, or I suppose I should call her by her proper name, Wonder Woman,” Selina commented. Bruce swallowed. 

“She’s not what I thought she was. She… apologized today. I didn’t see that coming. I think we’ll be able to work together now.” He smiled, grabbing Selina’s hand, and squeezing it, in a rare outward display of affection, “but she’s not you, Cat. I promise.” Selina swatted him, pretending that hadn’t been on her mind. 

“You better hope not, buster,” she said, mock-scolding. 

……………… 

After a while, Bruce reluctantly told Selina he had to go out. She left, and he got prepared for the night. “Sir,” Alfred said, “the Bat symbol had been lit.” 

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said, heading for his car. He drove to the police station and was soon on the roof. 

“What’s the problem, Commissioner?” he asked. Jim Gordon turned around, for once not looking harried or even concerned. Bruce waited a little anxiously to hear the news. Suddenly, the door behind the Gordon burst open and about a dozen cops stepped out, applauding. Gordon cracked a smile and withdrew a newspaper from his trench coat’s pocket. 

“Congratulations, Batman. It seems you’ve once again managed the near impossible— the mayor just called and said we could take you off our ‘most wanted’ list,” said Gordon, chuckling a little. Bruce stood there a moment, shocked. The other cops, of whom he recognized Montoya and Bullock, among a few others, stepped out farther. A few were still clapping and hooting. Gordon approached his side, and invited him closer to the group. “We’ve got coffee and donuts. Have a little coffee, at least. Oh, by the way,” he said, looking at Bruce firmly, to emphasize his point, “that was some nice work in D.C. pass along my congrats to those two, would you?” 

Bruce found himself nodding, and said, “I will, Commissioner.” After that, he found himself being presented with a donut and a Styrofoam cup of black coffee by Jim. The other officers hovered around the table, just inside the door. Bruce stood a little awkwardly just on the edge of the yellow light emanating from the small hallway. He took a sip of the coffee, followed by a bite of the donut, listening to the conversation. Gordon stood besides him, also observing. A few officers came up to speak to Gordon, eyeing the bat slightly nervously, but less hostilely than usual. But it wasn’t until Harvey Bullock that anybody dared to approach Batman directly. Bullock came up, fiddling with his hat, which was held in one hand. 

“Commish,” he said, then turned to Batman, “I gotta tell ya, Bats… that was some impressive stuff, back there. Good job. Not that this changes things between you and I, mind ya. But still, some acknowledgment’s due.” He stuck his hand out and Bruce shook, surprised. 

“Thank you, Bullock,” he said. 

“Ach! I told ya, this changes nothing!” said the officer, departing. Bruce smirked. 

Gordon turned to him, giving him a knowing look. “I think,” he said slowly, “this is the beginning of a new era. Personally, I’m looking forward to it.” Bruce finished off his coffee, and placed his plates in the trash. 

“I agree,” he said, looking at all the officers there, supporting him and their commissioner. Soon after, he excused himself to go patrol Gotham, saying he’d been away too long. But he secretly thought about the commissioner’s words the rest of the night. 

……………… 

A few days later, he got a message from Clark. 

“Testing… did this come through?” it said. Bruce groaned a little, before responding. 

“Yes. Only for professional use, S.” 

“Oops, sorry, B. ☹. How are things in Gotham?” 

Bruce sighed again, before opening a message to both Clark and Diana. “The Commissioner says congratulations for the good work in D.C. He thinks this is the beginning of a new era… and personally, I believe he might be right. So, that being said, I would be willing to *consider* networking with other heroes. But I have a few requirements…” 

……………… 

Five years later: 

Bruce strode down the halls of the Justice League Watchtower. A few of the senior members nodded in acknowledgement. He nodded back. His mind was on the latest league case— Lex Luthor had teamed up with Poison Ivy and Solomon Grundy and was threatening to take over New York by making Central Park’s plants come alive. He entered the league’s senior meeting room to see Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, and Superman laughing about something, and even Diana, Cyborg, and the Martian Manhunter had cracked a smile and looked amused. “What’s so funny?” Bruce barked, annoyed that they were not already focused on the task at hand. 

“I’m sorry, B,” Clark said, still slightly breathless from the laughing, “but today is our five-year friendiversary. I was just telling Hal and Barry how awesome I thought your giant dinosaur was the first time I saw it.” Bruce sighed, shaking his head. 

“We can talk about that later, Superman, after Luthor, Grundy, and Ivy have been defeated,” Batman growled, unamused. 

“Fine, have it your way, Bruce,” Clark said, smirking slightly. 

Diana just shook her head at the two men’s antics, a fond smile on her face. Bruce sighed, and turned to the business at hand, “Now, about the situation in New York…” 

The End.


End file.
